


Let It Lie

by TriDom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Chris, Alpha!Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, But complicated relationship dynamics, Kid Fic, M/M, Single Father Peter, no infidelity, omega!Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom/pseuds/TriDom
Summary: When Peter was younger, he made some large mistakes. The largest was getting pregnant with Chris Argent's daughter.





	1. Chapter 1

Malia’s elementary school was as pretentious and exclusive as a school could be without being private. Peter was aware of that. He was aware that the zipcode they lived in afforded them a certain luxury. He was also aware that the amount of money his family had donated to the school over the last twenty years meant that of the thousands of children who applied for admission, a Hale child would be admitted first, werewolf or not.

It meant also meant that the small school was as beautiful and quaint as the million dollar homes around it, nestled into groves of trees, and their playground equipment was updated every time the cheerful colors started to fade even the smallest amount. 

On the first day of Malia’s first grade year, Peter parked his X6 in the parking lot that still smelled of fresh asphalt from its new coat over the summer. With the windows down in the seventy degree weather, he could hear the high-pitched voices of excited children and the false friendly tones of parents who were seeing each other for the first time in three months. 

As he put the BMW in park, bordered on one side by an S-Class Mercedes and on the other by a Porsche Cayenne, he unbuckled and turned to Malia in the backseat. Her dirty blond hair, that had stayed wild all summer, was brushed and pushed back from her small face with a white headband that matched her pressed button up. She was still staring down at her tablet. 

“Put it up. Time for school,” Peter said. 

“It’s almost over,” she said. 

“I’ll save it,” Peter said. “Put it down and look at me.” 

Malia frowned and put her tablet down. The thick red case was covered in unicorn and Batman stickers. If she was good this week he’d buy her another cover and a new set of stickers. He might even send her with Derek and his best friend, Stiles, to pick out her stickers. That would send her over the moon. 

“What are we not going to do today?” Peter asked. 

“Bite.” 

“Or?” 

“Spit.” 

“Or?” 

“Hit.” 

“That’s right. You can do that to cousin Derek when we get home.” 

“Yes!” 

Peter laughed slightly as he got out of the SUV and went around to let Malia out of her booster seat. She was already unbuckled and trying to stuff her tablet in her backpack that was loaded with new boxes of crayons and glue sticks. 

“No you can watch it when you get home,” he said, taking the tablet from her and putting it back on the seat. 

Her lower lip started to tremble. “Daddy.” 

“Those puppy tears only work on Aunt Talia.” 

“She’s nicer than you. I like her more.” 

“Too bad, because you’re mine,” Peter said, kissing her loudly on the cheek. That got a laugh as he sat her on the ground. She held his belt loop as he got out her backpack. He checked it for more contraband then zipped it closed. 

Being the first day back after summer, it was busy in the small parking lot. Peter picked Malia up as they crossed the narrow aisle to the sidewalk where other parents were standing with their children. 

“Am I going to see Ms. Morgan?” Malia asked. 

“You might see her, but you’ll have a new teacher,” Peter said. 

“What if she’s not nice?” 

“She’ll be nice.” 

“But what if she’s not?” 

“You still can’t bite her.” 

Malia huffed against his shoulder. Peter crouched down near the steps that led up to the First Grade wing. He set Malia on her feet and helped her pull on her Star Wars backpack. He could blame that entirely on Derek and Stiles, who had brain washed his child over the summer with entirely too many space movie marathons. 

“You’re going to have a good day and I’m not going to get any calls, right?” Peter asked. 

“Right.” 

“That’s my girl,” Peter said, kissing her cheek. “Okay, go see your friends.” 

Malia hugged him around the neck and Peter squeezed her. He would not cry. He had done that last year during her first day of kindergarten. He vowed to not do it again, but his eyes did burn as he pulled away. He flashed his eyes at her and she flashed hers back, shifting from blue so light it was nearly white to her wolf pup’s amber. 

“I’ll be back to get you as soon as school is over,” Peter said. 

“Okay,” Malia said, squeezing him again, almost busting his lip before she ran up the stairs toward where her two best friends were already waiting by the doors with a few happy looking women, who could be none other than teachers. 

Peter watched her for a few seconds before he turned to go back to his car. If he lingered he might be wrangled into whatever cause the more involved PTA parents were doing this month. He had learned that lesson back when Derek was still in high school less than a mile away, in a school just as selective. 

Then he froze. 

A man in his early to mid thirties was crossing the parking lot, holding a girl with long dark hair on his hip, a small purple backpack hanging from his other hand. 

For a moment, it felt like every molecule of oxygen had been sucked from the atmosphere. 

He watched Chris Argent kneel on the sidewalk, like he had just done with Malia. Chris helped the girl pull on her backpack and talked to her for a few moments before she went up the stairs, not smiling like Malia had done. Her face was serious, determined, just like her father. 

Peter jerked out of his haze and started back toward his car. Adrenaline flushed from his brain, down his spine as he felt his eyes shift and forced them back. His fingers were tingling. 

“Peter?” 

Peter made himself stop on the edge of the sidewalk. He wanted to keep walking, but this was inevitable. If their children were going to be in the same class he needed to be an adult. He turned around and watched Chris coming toward him through the thin crowd of other parents. 

“Do I know you?” 

He had grown a beard. It made his eyes look lighter. There was gray in his hair. When the breeze caught Peter, he stopped inhaling through his nose. Not before he was slammed with the scent he wasn’t even conscious of remembering. 

Chris frowned, “I had that coming.” 

Peter stared at him and Chris twisted his phone between his thumb and forefingers. Peter wished he would drop it. 

“Who are you here with? Did Talia have another baby?” Chris asked, his tone too polite, too cheerful. 

“No,” Peter said, staring at him. His mouth didn’t want to work. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in throat. 

Chris smiled slightly. “Volunteering? I don’t think they really like people to just hang around schools.” 

“I’m dropping off my daughter.” 

The tiny smile that Chris had fell. The same confused expression Peter used to know so well reshaped his features. 

“Why are you here?” Peter asked. 

“Allison,” he said, looking away from Peter toward the group of children. “I… the schools are better here. You have a daughter? Her age?” 

“Obviously.” 

Peter had never seen the color drain from someone’s face, but he watched it happen with Chris as he turned pale. Chris turned back to him and he looked like he might faint. 

“Peter,” he said. 

“She’s mine,” Peter said, shifting his eyes. “That’s all you need to know.” 

He could hear Chris’s heart beating faster. He was glad that Chris couldn’t hear his own as he walked across the parking lot to his SUV. He was faintly surprised that Chris didn’t follow him, but he had never been a man to make a scene. That was one thing they could still agree on. Peter backed out slowly and left the parking lot at a creep, but when he reached the End of School zone, he hit the gas and turned up the radio to drown out the pounding of his own pulse. 

 

When he reached his sister’s house, he opened the front door to the sounds of Call of Duty echoing from the vaulted ceilings in the living room. Given the blue Jeep out front, he would guess the perpetrators were Derek and Stiles. Peter avoided them, going up the stairs and down the hall. He knocked softly when he reached his sister’s office door. 

“Come in,” Talia called. 

Peter opened the door and Talia smiled slightly from her armchair near the window. She had a blue file open in front of her and steam was still rising from a cup of coffee in her hand. Her smile fell as he came in and sat on the loveseat, sinking as far into it as he could. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Chris is back,” he said. 

“How do you know?”

“He was dropping his first grader off when I was dropping off Malia.” 

“No,” she said. 

“Is there anything I need to do on her paperwork? Anything at all?” 

“No,” she said, putting her file to the side. Then she leaned forward to touch his knee. “Breathe.” 

Peter took a deep breath. His chest still felt too small. 

“Legally she’s your daughter. Even if he tried to appeal, he hasn’t attempted contact in six years. His odds for even visitation would be low.” 

“Does it count if he didn’t know she existed?” 

“He spent two heats with you. You were both aware that at least a few times, protection wasn’t used. He had no reason to assume that you didn’t become pregnant then he left no way for you to contact him.” 

Peter nodded, focusing on his breathing and slowly moving his fingers. 

She had talked him through this a hundred times in the last six years. His stomach still cramped as his heart pounded. The animal in his head wanted to go dig a hole in the woods, get Malia and put her in it. It would be fine. They could live in the woods, have a den of their own, and be wild. 

“Peter, he may be an asshole, but he would never try to take away your child.” 

“I want to believe that.” 

“You need to believe that before you give yourself a panic shift.” 

Peter closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose then out of his mouth. Talia’s hand was still on his knee. The warmth of her fingers leached through the denim to his skin. 

“He did love you. He was just a spineless jackass.” 

“I know,” Peter said, opening his eyes and staring at the closed door. “You should have seen him with his daughter,” he said, shaking his head, his vision blurring. “Malia should have that.” 

“She does have that. From more people than she could possibly need.” 

Peter dragged his hand down his face. “Why the fuck didn’t he stay gone?” 

“Three guesses,” Talia said dryly. “Gerard dies then he comes back within two months? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist.” 

“It’s been six years. He doesn’t want me. I don’t want him.” 

“So he didn’t try to talk to you?” 

Peter stared at her and she stared back with the same unimpressed expression. 

“Did you tell him he’s the father?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

“Why the fuck could he not leave this alone?” Peter asked again, tilting his head back on the cushions to stare at the ceiling. 

“Because he’s a fuckwad,” Talia said. 

Peter huffed a laugh. Getting a creative cursing from Talia was always a small reward of its own. She picked up her cup of coffee and sipped it for awhile in the quiet of her soundproof office. Peter lingered even after she picked her file back up. He knew she didn’t care and being near his pack alpha soothed his agitated wolf at the very least. 

Living in the woods was not a viable option. He repeated that to himself compulsively until the wild half of him slowly eased. He could keep his daughter safe and in his home, legally and sanely. He started to calm himself with that too until he finally began to feel like his mind wasn’t racing. 

 

For most of the day, Peter’s thoughts kept circling back to pick-up that afternoon at the school. It should be like it had been for kindergarten the previous year, the parents pulled up in a long line and attendants helped load up the kids. There was no interaction between parents. That’s what he pascated himself with as he worked on translating freelance case files in his home office. 

His bungalow was only a few hundred yards from the main house, but it gave him as much privacy as if he lived miles away. Derek texted before he came over and normally waited for a response that it was okay to visit before heading over. Talia normally asked him up to the main house if they had business to discuss. It was the perfect amount of autonomy for raising his child with the pack. 

As soon as he’d found out he was pregnant, Talia had started renovating the home his parents had lived in, adding a large room for Peter and using their parents’ old bedroom for Malia’s bedroom. Talia had spared no expense. It was smaller, but every fixture, every tile was exactly what he wanted and exuded a sense of peace and calm. It probably helped that when he’d been choosing the finishings, he’d been heavily pregnant and his nesting instincts had been in full swing. 

A few hours before he needed to get ready to pick her up, he stared the dishwasher and picked up toys strug across the living room. He refolded the four throw blankets that were always in the living room, rotated every few days with another set of four. He fluffed the pillows and vacuumed the floor until the house was as perfect as he wanted it to be. It still looked lived in, that was unavoidable with Malia, but it looked comfortable and made his uneasy wolf calmer. 

He took the moment of peace and quiet, and laid down on the couch. He pulled one of the blankets off the back of the couch and set his phone alarm in case he fell asleep as he put the TV on for noise. 

That morning, he had woken up without a concern past making sure that Malia got dressed, ate her oatmeal without spilling it down her shirt, then triple checking they didn’t forget anything on their way out the door. 

Then Chris fucking Argent had to show up, like he had the right to invade Peter’s home. Peter clenched a pillow to his chest and buried his face against it. It had been a foolish whirlwind thing between them, but he had fallen in love so much harder than he’d thought himself capable of at only twenty-one. He had always mildly resented being a male omega, rare or not, it was a burden, an oddity, but Chris had made him embrace it. He had made him see the wonderful aspects of his dynamic. After his first heat with Chris, he hadn’t hated his body for what it cause. He had loved the way it had triggered Chris’s rut and it felt like they were completely in sync. 

He still remembered sitting on Chris’s lap during the first heat, Chris’s arms around his back, feeling every movement of their skin together and Chris inside him. They were both tired, but Chris had touched his face and neck like he was something precious. He had looked into Chris’s eyes and it was a moment he knew he would never forget. 

He still hadn’t. 

Now, he saw those eyes every single day in Malia’s face. She was his little demon, a hellion, and a God send. His thoughts twisted like a festering of snakes in his chest and in his mind. Chris had given him the most wonderful little creature in the world, but he had also left him with a gaping hole in his chest that had taken years to even scab over. 

Now it felt like that scab was being picked and it hurt. 

In the end, Peter’s alarm on his phone went off long before sleep came. 

 

 

Like most things, the thing that he had worried about most came to nothing. The pick-up line at school was just as it had been the year before. He waited in line and when it was his turn, an attendant loaded Malia into her booster seat and she began to talk the second she was inside the car. 

“Hi, Daddy!” 

She was the loudest wolf he had ever known. How she didn’t damage her own hearing he didn’t know, because he was sure he would be partially deaf before she was eighteen.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Peter said, “How was school?” he asked as the attendant closed the door. 

He looked back to make sure he was buckled properly before he pulled away from the curb. 

“We colored and played tag during P.E.” 

“That sounds like fun,” Peter said. “Did you see your friends?” 

“Mhm,” she said too loudly. “And I met Allison. We’re best friends.” 

“Are you now?”

“Yep.” 

“What about Lee? I thought she was your best friend.” 

“She likes Morgan more,” Malia said. By the tone of her voice, she couldn’t be less heartbroken over it. 

“Do you happen to known Allison’s last name?” 

“Ar-rrrr,” it turned into a growl then as Malia didn’t even try to finish. She already had her tablet in her hands. 

“Argent?” Peter asked. 

“Mhm.” 

“Fantastic,” Peter said under his breath. 

They went through the parking lot at a slow crawl, Malia’s tablet chattering and making high-pitched noises he had somehow learned to tune out until he could turn out of the lot and start toward home. Only when they were on the highway did he allow himself a deep, even breath. One day of a clean break. Now he only had the rest of the school year to manage.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter liked to keep late hours. Maybe it was the wolf or maybe it was his own selfish desire to have time to himself, but he would rather sacrifice sleep and keep some of his autonomy than be well-rested. Which meant he was still awake after eleven, sipping coffee in his kitchen as he thumbed through his copy of Malia’s paperwork that Talia had put together for him when Malia was born. He had wanted no one’s name on her birth certificate, but Talia had talked him out of that. She didn’t want any loopholes, so his brother-in-law’s, Talia’s husband, name was in the place of paternity. 

Now he was grateful he’d listened to her. It was worth the nurses’ looks of judgement at Thomas, Talia, and him, like they were the most twisted family in the world. 

It was written-off as werewolves in quiet voices with sideways glances. 

Talia told him they could suck their own self-righteous dicks. It was easy to allow himself to do that when he had been able to hold Malia for the first time. It had been even easier when he saw how easily she slid into their pack. Talia and Thomas might as well have been her second parents for as often as they cared for her. Then again, he could say the same thing of himself with Talia’s kids. 

Then there was a soft knock on his door. Peter checked his phone. There were no message from any of the usual late night visitors as he went to the door. A knot began to form in his chest, but when he pulled the door open it was just Stiles.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked. 

“I came to see you,” Stiles said, stepping into his space. 

Peter let Stiles kiss him as he pulled him inside and closed the door. 

They went down the hall to his bedroom quietly. His bedroom walls were soundproofed, so when he slept he left the door open, but when he had someone like Stiles over, he closed it with Malia’s bedroom only a short distance away. 

Stiles kissed him with all the energy of the twenty-three year old he was. Peter soaked in the hot sweet scent of his arousal, like ground pepper and blackberries vines. It always reminded him of full moon runs in the summer. 

Occasionally, they dragged their hookups out, but tonight it was just quick and good before Stiles was laying half on top of him, his nose near the curve of Peter’s neck. He had licked Peter’s cum from his stomach and now he trailed his fingers down the light trail of hair that went from his chest down to his groin. He was a young alpha and he was still a slut for the pheromones that Peter put off. It made him a puppy. Peter squeezed him, nuzzling Stiles back until they kissed again. 

He never intentionally meant it as a cue for Stiles to get off him, but he was intuitive. He moved off Peter and laid bedside him, propped on his elbow. 

“Is everything okay?” Stiles asked. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I saw you go up and talk to Talia earlier. You smelled off.” 

Peter frowned, glaring at the ceiling. “Today when I was dropping Malia off at school, I saw her father there with his other daughter. They’re in the same class.” 

“The dad you won’t tell anyone about?” 

“That would be him.” 

“I thought he lived out of state?” 

“So did I,” Peter said. 

Stiles leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. Peter turned in and kissed him on the lips. The pulsing hole in his chest was back. Stiles was a good distraction, but the afterglow was quickly fading. 

“Does he want to see Malia?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “He didn’t know she existed until about fourteen hours ago.” 

“Wow,” Stiles said, dragging it out. “Why didn’t you tell him?” 

“He’s married.” 

“Oh.” 

“And he’s an Argent.” 

When Stiles was silent, Peter glanced over. Stiles was staring at him with a divot between his brows. 

“Like Argent, huge-werewolf-hunting-family Argent?” 

Peter nodded. 

“Like a distant cousin? Great-great nephew or something?” 

“He’s Gerard Argent’s son.” 

Stiles laughed.When Peter looked at him, he put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, but what the fuck? I don’t even know why I’m surprised.” 

“Ass,” Peter said. 

“Only you would end up having the pup of like the biggest asshole werewolf hunter in the world.” 

“Chris wasn’t like his father.” 

“No, because he apparently has a werewolf kink. Maybe like those anti-gay legislators that get caught using glory holes,” Stiles said, “But then again, you have a hunter kink, so…” 

“I don’t have a hunter kink,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “If you saw him you’d understand.” 

“So you’re just shallow?” 

“Like I said, you little bi-puppy, if you saw him you’d understand,” Peter said, closing his eyes and leaned back into his pillow. 

“Was it a one-night stand?”

“No. We were together for almost a year. It was a secret obviously. Toward the end, we wanted to have a pup together. I was only twenty-two-” 

“That’s not that young.” 

“Yes it is,” Peter said, rolling his eyes, “And so is twenty-four.” 

“Whatever. Keep going,” Stiles said. “Almost twenty-five.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I thought that even though his family were fanatics that we could change their minds. But of course, I was wrong. Gerard found out about us after we’d spent two heats together without actively trying to keep from having a baby. Then one day after my college class let out, there was a note on my windshield from Chris telling me his father had found out, that he had to leave.” 

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it,” Peter said. 

There had been more, the marriage that Gerard had arranged, how much Chris didn’t want to leave, how he promised he would come back as soon as he could, but he understood if Peter couldn’t or didn’t want to wait on him. 

Peter swallowed hard as he stared up at the ceiling. He had the letter on the top shelf of his closet with pictures of him and Chris in case he ever decided to tell Malia who her father was. 

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” Peter asked. 

“Six,” Stiles said, bracing himself over Peter before leaning down to kiss him. When he pulled back, he stared down at Peter for a moment. “The guy is a fucking idiot just so you know.” 

Peter smiled slightly. 

Stiles kissed him again and Peter kissed him back. He dressed quickly and left Peter’s bedroom door open on his way out of the house. 

Peter exhaled, the heaviness in his chest sinking harder. He got up and pulled on the underwear he’d thrown on the floor and climbed back into bed, picking up the novel he was slowly working through. 

He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he felt the bed shifting then Malia was curling up against him with no reasoning. Sometimes she just liked to be cuddled, she just seemed to have an innate knowledge of when Peter needed the same thing. 

He squeezed her close until she huffed like she did when she was a pup on full moons. Peter fell back to sleep, hearing her heart beating softly and listening to her steady quiet breathing. 

 

 

The next morning, he was as nervous as the afternoon before, but it was the same as before. The attendants helped Malia out of the car, and that was it. There were no interactions with parents or teachers. He didn’t even catch a glimpse of Chris or his daughter for the rest of the week.

While he didn’t see Allison, Malia talked about her endlessly. If Malia wasn’t talking about Rey or Moana, she was talking about Allison. They were becoming the best friends that only children could make so quickly. They were already talking about sleepovers and birthday parties, which given that Malia’s was only a month away wasn’t unreasonable. From what Malia told him, Allison seemed much quieter than her, but it obviously hadn’t kept them from hitting it off. 

All in all, the week went so smoothly that he allowed himself to fall into a sense of calm. He should have known better. 

 

On Friday night, he was drinking his nightly cup of coffee just after ten, standing in his kitchen, and flipping through some of his upcoming contracts when someone knocked on his door. It would either be Derek asking if he had extra alcohol or possibly, hopefully, Stiles again. 

When he pulled the door open to Chris standing on his small porch, he froze. 

The fine hair on the back of his neck rose as he stepped out, making Chris back up so he could close the door. 

“What do you want?” 

“Is she my daughter?” Chris asked. 

“She isn’t anything to you.” 

“Peter,” Chris said, a small human alpha growl crawling into his voice. It sounded more pathetic than threatening. 

“Unlike you I wasn’t fucking anything with a pulse six years ago.” 

“Neither was I and you know it.” 

“How far apart are they? My daughter was born in October.” 

“April.” 

Peter laughed, a harsh humorless noise. “You waited almost six months? How kind.” 

“I didn’t want to leave.” 

The back of Peter’s throat feel puffy and hot. Chris’s eyes had always been expressive when he wanted them to be. Malia could play his feelings like a piano the same way. 

“No, you just ran like a bitch when your daddy said so.” 

Then Chris’s eyes iced over. Malia couldn’t do that. He never planned to give her a reason to learn that skill. 

“He threatened to start a plant seeds in the hunting community that Talia had gone rabid when he found out about us. I was allowed to leave, get married, or stay and watch him try, and we both know most likely succeed, in killing your pack.” 

“I should’ve been part of that discussion.” 

“So you could say that we could make it work? That we didn’t have to be worried about him?” 

Peter stared at Chris in the yellow glow of his porch lights. He would have and they both knew it. He would have argued anything to keep Chris with him then.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said. “But I didn’t have a choice. If he’d known that we had a pup,” Then he shook his head. “I’m sure he knew, but if I had stayed to help you raise her, even if I’d been allowed to know she existed in the first place, he would’ve killed us that much faster.” 

Peter glanced at the main house. It was serine and white against the dark pines. So much of his pack lived inside. The thought of losing even one of them was heart wrenching. The thought of losing the small life behind the door of his own home was unimaginable. 

“If you were so worried about him you shouldn’t have looked at me, you shouldn’t have tried to get me pregnant,” Peter said. “We both wanted her, just because we didn’t say it didn’t mean we didn’t want it. Neither of us even mentioned a contraceptive the second heat.” 

Peter saw the barely there flex of Chris jaw, the look in his eyes that was somehow soft and hard at the same time. 

“I wanted to believe he was better than he was.” 

“And because of that I was the stupid boy who was knocked up and alone, having to rely on my pack for everything. I was the one who was heartbroken and left to raised a child by myself,” Peter said, his voice getting louder. “You were supposed to be there. My child was never supposed to grow up not knowing who her father was, Chris. That’s your fault.” 

Peter saw Chris’s adam’s apple move as he swallowed. He heard the hitch of his pulse before it evened, but he never looked away from Peter’s eyes. 

“I can’t make up for not being here, but I’ll do anything for the chance to know her. I don’t want her to grow up without knowing me either.” 

“And your wife would be fine with that?” 

“I don’t care what she thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore,” Chris said. “My dad is dead. I can live my life how I want. I came back for you,” he said. “I still want that, but right now there’s nothing I want more than to know her.” 

“So you’re divorced?” 

“Say the word and I will be,” Chris said. 

“So you’ll all in, except you have your wife waiting in the wings?” 

“I’m as much in as I should be with a six year old. If you don’t want this, then I’m not going to make Allison’s life complicated, but if you want to be together, or at least try, if you think you could be good to Allison, then I’ll end it without a second thought.” 

“And what would I tell Malia if you disappear again?” Peter asked. 

“If you let me meet her, be part of her life, I’ll never leave Beacon Hills.” 

Peter stared at him, listening for a change in his pulse, but there was nothing. With Chris and the training he’d had that meant so little. It was the softness of his eyes that gave him away. Peter didn’t know how long he stared at him, but the night insects were alive in the woods around them, filling the silence. 

“I’ll think about it,” Peter said. “About letting her meet you. That’s it.” 

“Okay.” 

Then Peter opened his front door and went back inside. He didn’t slam the door in Chris’s face, but he closed it firmly, twisting the deadbolt and lock on the handle behind him. He sat on the couch in the living room long after he heard Chris’s 4Runner start and leave the driveway. 

It was less than fifteen minutes before there was another knock at his door. This time he didn’t even have to guess as he opened the door to Talia on the other side. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“You were spying?” 

“Yes.” 

Peter went back to his couch and buried his head in his hands. “He wants to meet her.” 

“Did he know about her before the other day?” 

“He says no.” 

“I believe that,” she said. “What are you going to do?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter said. “I want her to know her dad, but if he disappears again I’ll kill him.” 

“You won’t be doing it alone.” 

Peter looked at his sister across the small space. Her lips were thinned and she was staring into space, like she was at just as much of a loss as he was. 

“What would you do?” Peter asked quietly. 

“As much as I hate what he did, she deserves to know him, even if he doesn’t deserve to know her,” Talia said. “If he was a low-life, I would say no, but I don’t think anything other than the threat of you being hurt would have pried him away from you. I think you know that too.” 

Peter’s eyes were blurring again. He had to be near a heat or something. His emotions felt like they had been tossed into a blender. 

“I hope his piece of shit father is being ripped to pieces by hellhounds for eternity.” 

“While on fire,” Talia said. 

Peter laughed slightly. The deep pulsating hole was back in his chest in full force. 

“Did you see him?” 

Talia nodded. “How do you feel about that?” 

Peter shook his head. To anyone else in the world he would have lied through his teeth, but this was Talia and she would take any of his secrets to her grave, as he would do with her. 

“It’s been this long and I would still fall for him like a stupid boy again if he opened that door. And I know he’s going to.” 

Talia was quiet for a moment before she shifted in the chair. “Would that be such a bad thing now that Gerard is gone?” 

Peter shook his head, his jaw aching as he realize how hard he’d been clenching it. “He’s married.” 

Talia snorted. “He’s gay. That’s not a marriage of love. It was a political marriage and I think he’s finished playing politics.” 

“You didn’t even talk to him.” 

“He came by your house in the middle of the night and spilled his heart on your door. He isn’t just wanting to know Malia. Don’t fool yourself.” 

Peter growled softly. “No one should be that attractive and be allowed to toy with people’s lives.” 

“I agree. Let’s kill him and bury him in the woods.” 

“Tempting.” Peter exhaled, leaning back on his couch. “This would’ve been so much simpler if he’d have just left this alone.” 

“Simpler, but would you be happier?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I think you deserve to know,” she said. “If it isn’t meant to be, then you have closure and Malia still gets to know him. If it is then… I don’t know.” 

Peter pushed up from the couch, his head spinning as he went to the kitchen. 

“You’re having wine,” he said. 

Talia laughed quietly. “Just bring the bottle.” 

Peter did. He brought two more before the night was through and he saw Talia off across the dooryard in the early morning hours before the sun was thinking of rising. His mind was slow and sluggish. He would regret this in a few hours when Malia woke up, wanting some kind of breakfast or another, but for now he had a wine induced calm that led him to bed and into a deep even sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning below

Malia managed to be in school an entire week and a half before Peter’s phone rang, the school office’s number on his screen. He rolled his eyes. It was like the kid had a sixth sense for when he was making progress on his workload.

“Peter Hale,” he answered.

“Mr. Hale, this is Principal Martin. We’ve had another incident with Malia.”

“She’s okay?”

“She’s fine,” the principal said. “She and two other students were involved in a physical altercation. We need you to come for a meeting as soon as you can.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said.

They said goodbye and Peter hung up. There went his afternoon of productivity. He put his work back into their respective folders before grabbing his keys from the island and heading out the door.

 

When he reached the school, an officer ran a wand over his clothing to check him for weapons before he was given a visitor's badge and pointed in the direction of the principal’s office that he was all too familiar with.

As soon as he rounded the corner, he saw Malia and Allison sitting outside of the office. Malia was patting Allison’s back, like clumsily petting a puppy. He could smell tears as he got closer. When Malia heard his footsteps, she looked up.

“It wasn’t my fault this time,” she said.

“In a minute,” Peter said, “Allison?” he asked, crouching down. Her eyes were red and irritated looking. She looked suspicious, but also like her eyes were hurting too much to try and do much else. “It’s okay. I’m Malia’s dad. Are you okay?”

“It’s just my eyes hurt,” she said, rubbing at them.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“Jackson pushed her into the sand. She got it in her eyes,” Malia said.

“And what did you do?” Peter asked, looking at Malia.

“I bit him.”

“Jesus, Malia,” he said, under his breath before he looked back at Allison. “I’m sure your dad will be here any minute.”

Allison nodded. He felt like the tears spilling down her face were due to the irritation more than her feelings being hurt. If he had ever had a question whose child she was they would’ve been erased then. Peter was a half second from reaching up to drain her pain when he heard someone coming toward them.

It didn’t surprise him that it was Chris. Peter had seen him hunting a handful of times when they were younger. He hadn’t managed to look any more intimidating then.

That thought was quickly followed by Peter realized the inevitable. Chris was going to meet Malia whether he liked it or not and this was where it was going to happen, in the hallway, outside of a principal’s office.

Chris barely looked at him, he looked at Malia for a moment longer before stopping front of Allison.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Allison nodded. Her dark eyes were still red-veined and watery.

“Who did it?” Chris asked.

“Jackson,” Allison said.

“He’s an asshole,” Malia said.

“Malia,” Peter said.

“It’s true.”

“You still know better.”

“With you as her dad?” Chris asked, smiling slightly before he looked at Malia. He glanced back up at Peter, waiting. Peter finally nodded. Chris crouched to her level. “So you’re Malia? Allison thinks you’re pretty special.”

“Yeah?”

Chris nodded then looked up at Peter before looking back to Malia.

“You’re beautiful, just like your dad.”

Malia snorted. “Daddy isn’t beautiful. He’s handsome.”

Chris smirked. “Agree he’s both?”

Malia nodded then took Chris’s hand when he offered it like it was a real deal they were striking. His hands were so large and tanned against her small pale ones. It put Peter on edge if people looked at Malia too long in public, but his chest suddenly hurt so badly he felt like he could scream or cry.

“Daddy?” Malia asked, looking up at him.

“Hm?” he asked, looking down. Malia was holding out her hand to him. He took it and squeezed it gently. “I’m alright, baby.”

Then Chris was back in front of Allison, tilting up her chin to look in her dark brown eyes. He wondered if her mother had brown eyes. He thought that Chris’s mother did. He wiped his thumbs over her cheeks before kissing her forehead.

“I bit him. Hard,” Malia said.

“Good,” Chris said.

“Chris,” Peter warned.

“He deserved it,” Chris said, looking Allison in her eyes. “If he ever tries to hurt you again hit him as hard as you can.”

Allison nodded. Her lower lip trembling. Peter’s ovaries had a mild palpitation when Chris moved to sit in the chair beside her, letting Allison crawl into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face against his neck. So there was a little girl in there. It just took having her daddy to bring it out.

“Is she hurting?” Peter asked, seeing her back shaking.

“Are your eyes hurting?” Chris asked. She gave an answer Peter couldn’t hear, but Chris nodded.

Peter stepped closer, letting Chris stop him if he wanted before he laid his hand against Allison’s temple and gently tugged at the stinging in her eyes.

“Is that okay, Allison?” Peter asked.

Allison looked back at him, seeing the dark lines going up his arm before she nodded. Her nose was running.

It would be harder, maybe, if he didn’t see so much of Chris in her face. He had never seen Victoria, but the small delicate features of Allison’s face were so similar to Chris’s. When the pain stopped leaching, Peter pulled his hand away.

“Better?” Peter asked.

Allison nodded before pushing her face against against Chris. “Better.”

“Good,” Chris said, kissing her forehead before he looked up at Peter. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Peter said, before going to sit on the other side of Malia to wait for the secretary to call them in for the principal.

When Malia scooted over beside Chris and patted where she’d been sitting so Peter could sit down, he did. He put his arm around Malia’s shoulders and waited. The principal was probably in the office with one of the Whitmore’s as usual.

“How hard did you bite him?” Peter asked.

“Until he cried.”

“That’s not nice.”

“He made Allison cry,” Malia said, looking at Allison’s back at that inches away from her where she sat in Chris’s lap still. “We weren’t even doing anything. We were just sitting by the swings.”

“I believe you,” Peter said.

Then Peter heard the quiet sniffing that Malia was too young to restrain. Her light blue eyes flashed yellow. Peter followed where she was looking to see her and Chris in a small staring contest. Chris smiled slightly.

“You have pretty eyes,” Chris said.

“They scare people.”

“No way.”

“Daddy, don’t they?” Malia asked, looking up at him.

“Some of them.”

“Well not me,” Chris said. “I’ve never been scared of your dad’s either.”

“You didn’t tell me you knew Allison’s daddy,” Malia said, looking back at Peter.

“It was a long time ago,” Peter said.

Malia growled softly, staring back at Chris. He wasn’t looking away from her. Peter couldn’t blame him. It was the first time he’d been near her. The scent of affection in general was so hard to identify, but he had smelled it on Chris before, even if it was years ago. That smell didn’t change. It was surprisingly sweet, like honeysuckle vines.

“He smells good,” Malia said, staring at Chris when she said it, but pulling on Peter’s sleeve.

Peter leaned down and kissed her head. Then he looked at Chris and gave a soft growl. A warning. Chris looked away, brushing Allison’s hair back from her forehead and checking her eyes again.

“Did you go to the nurse?” he mumbled.

He saw Allison nod.

“What did she do?”

“Put stuff in my eyes,” she said.

Then the office door opened and Jackson Whitmore’s parents came out with the boy between them. The father glared at Malia, but didn’t say anything. Jackson’s mother came closer to Chris with sympathy in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. Would you like to take her to the hospital? We’ll pay for any medical treatment,” she said.

“I don’t think she needs to go, but thank you,” Chris said.

“Does your pup have anything we should know about?” Jackson’s dad asked looking at Malia.

Peter let his eyes flash, his teeth immediately wanting to drop. “Remember who you’re talking to if you’d like to keep that phallus of a car you drive.”

“It’s our right to know-.”

“She can’t carry disease. I’m sure you know that,” Chris said. When Jackson’s dad started to open his mouth, Chris cut him off. “You should go.”

Malia growled quietly, tucking against Peter. A slow pulsing was beginning at the base of Peter’s skull. He had no doubt that human parents felt something similar, but he doubted they heard the growling in their own ears. A rumble of warning that wasn’t audible. He could smell Malia’s anxiety creeping into the air. A large man was standing in front of her, staring at her like she was a parasite. Peter would love to rip his intestines out through his throat.

Luckily, Jackson’s mom took his dad’s arm and pulled him down the hall. Peter leaned down and held the side of Malia’s face against his side.

“He’ll never lay a finger on you,” he said quietly enough that even Chris couldn’t hear.

“I know,” Malia said, but she still clenched his shirt. “Jackson says mean things about wolves all the time,” she said quietly. “I know I’m not supposed to bite. I’m sorry.”

Peter smelled Chris’s skin closer and looked up to him touching Malia’s shoulder.

“He’s not supposed to be pushing or hitting,” Chris said. “You’re okay. We’ll take care of it.”

Malia stared at Chris for a moment. Her golden eyes faded to the same shade of blue as Chris’s.

“Okay.”

Then the office door opened again to the principal, Ms. Martin.

“Mr. Hale, Mr. Argent, you can come into my office,” she said.

“I want the girls to sit with the secretary,” Peter said.

“That’s fine,” Ms. Martin said.

Chris carried Allison into the secretary’s office and Peter led Malia by her hand. Peter let go of Malia’s hand as she went to sit in one of the chairs she was too familiar with. Chris sat Allison beside her.

“Drain her pain if it gets too much,” Peter said near Malia’s ear.

“Okay,” Malia said.

Peter ran his fingers through her hair before following Chris and the principal down a short hallway behind the secretary’s desk to her office. She sat behind the large desk as Chris sat in a chair across from her. Peter sat beside him.

“I’m sure the girls have told you what happened, but I’d like to go over it again,” Ms. Martin said. “I’ve even reviewed the footage on our outside equipment. Jackson approached the girls where they were sitting beside the swings. They said a few things, then Jackson pushed Allison into the sand and Malia tackled and bit him.”

“So why are we here?” Chris asked.

“I’ve dealt with Jackson. He’ll be suspended for a week. As for Malia, she’ll need to be suspended for two,” Ms. Martin said.

“For defending Allison?” Chris asked before Peter could open his mouth.

“We have a zero tolerance policy against violence.”

“Did you see Allison’s eyes?” Chris asked. “So instead of stopping Jackson as soon as she could, Malia was supposed to track down a teacher and bring them back while my daughter was being assaulted?”

“I understand your frustration-”

“You don’t or you wouldn’t be punishing her friend. She could have been blinded.”

“Malia brought blood. Our policy with werewolves-”

Chris shook his head. “Fine. Allison won’t be here for the next two weeks either. Are we done?”

“Mr. Argent, you have to understand the fear other parents have for their children with wolves.”

“She’s a pup,” Chris said, his voice hardening. “She isn’t a carrier for disease and she can’t make anyone a were. It’s safer for her to bite a human than it is for another person to bite.”

“There have been cases-”

“Do you know who I am?” Chris asked. “You probably don’t, because you don’t know an eighth as much about the were community as you should. I’m the leader of one of the most well-known werewolf hunting families in the world. There are no cases of a pup infecting a human. She’s a wolf. She was protecting her friend. Instead of hitting, like Jackson did, she bit. It’s that simple. If I ever hear you inply that she’s more dangerous than any other child in this school I will be taking it to the school board. No wonder Whitmore seemed to think it was okay to imply that a little girl had diseases. This is completely unacceptable,” Chris said.

The principal clenched her jaw, but looked down and rolled her pen between her fingers.

Peter could smell his anger in the confined space, like the scent of snow on brutally cold winter air. Some part of him wanted to reach out and touch him. Calm him down. This wasn’t uncommon. This kind of casual speciesism, but Chris wouldn't know that. He had never had to hear someone talk about his daughter that way.

“Mrs. Martin, I understand you want to keep other children safe,” Peter said, “but punishing Malia above the aggressor just because of what she is isn’t acceptable and you know that. I’ll keep her out for the rest of the week, because she brought blood, but I will be bringing her back Monday. I don’t want to make a bigger deal of this than it has to be.”

The principal looked between them. She knew Malia’s aunt was the most prolific lawyers in the state and alpha of one of one of the most prominent packs in the country.

“Mr. Hale, Peter,” she said. “She has to stop biting people.”

“Would you rather me teach her how to sucker punch someone who hits her?”

Ms. Martin exhaled through her nose and squeezed the bridge of her nose. He wondered if she acted the same way when Jackson was sitting with his parents.

“She has only ever bitten in self-defense. I won’t tell her to stop protecting herself,” he said. “Malia also said that Jackson hasn’t stopped talking about wolves. I want that dealt with. They’re young now. It’s the time to stop that hatefulness before they get any older.”

Ms. Martin finally nodded. Peter tried to understand. She was between the Hale pack on one side and the threat of being sued by the Whitmores on the other. It couldn't be a comfortable place to be, but he hardly cared.

“Stephen Whitmore can act intimidating all he wants, but he knows he has no case or he would’ve already brought it against my pack or the school. However, if this isn’t taken care of, I will get Talia involved,” Peter said. “None of us want that, but more so I don’t want my daughter being villainized. She is a good girl. You know that. Her teachers know that.”

Ms. Martin nodded, her lips still tight, but she looked at him. “We don’t want Malia to feel unsafe or unprotected here either. I’ll have her teachers keep a closer eye on Jackson. We will get this taken care of.”

“That’s all I expect,” he said.

“We’ll see Malia Monday,” she said. “I won’t count it on her record.”

“Thank you,” Peter said.

“Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Argent?”

“It’s Peter’s decision,” Chris said.

“Then it’s settled,” Peter said. “Thank you for your time and thank you for listening to our concerns.”

Chris waited for Peter to pass him as they made their way out of the principal’s office. Malia and Allison were talking in the chairs in front of the secretary’s desk. They both looked up like the world’s most innocent lambs when they saw Peter and Chris.

“We’re leaving for the day,” Peter said.

“Same, kiddo,” Chris said to Allison.

“Malia said I could come to her house and watch Pocahontas,” Allison said. Then her pale cheeks turned red. “Only if it’s okay with you, Mr. Hale.”

Peter looked at Chris, who shrugged.

“We don’t have anything else to do,” Chris said.

“You want to come too?” Peter asked.

“If you’ll let me,” Chris said.

Peter looked Chris in his eyes for a moment before he reached for Malia’s hand. “Stop and get snacks.”

“Okay,” Chris said.

The girls cheered. It shouldn’t have made Peter smile. They were in trouble, but he couldn’t help it.

 

Even with stopping at the store, Chris and Allison were only about thirty minutes behind Peter and Malia which gave them just enough time to clean up the living room, put down a pallet on the floor, and straighten Malia’s bedroom enough to be presentable.

They had just finished when there was a knock on the door. Since Peter had heard Chris’s SUV pull up, he let Malia answer the door. She and Allison immediately went to the living room and Malia started to operate the remote like the professional she was as the girls settled down on the blankets.

“You’re good at this playdate thing,” Chris said, looking at them.

“She has them a lot,” Peter said. “Doesn’t Allison?”

“She’s quiet. She didn’t make a lot of friends at her old school.”

“Well for better or worse Malia is loyal to a fault, so she won’t be alone now,” Peter said, taking things from the sacks Chris had brought. Ice cream, chewy sweet tarts, a few different kinds of chips, hazelnut chocolate, and wolfsbane wine. Peter raised his brow at the last one. Chris shrugged.

“I thought we could talk.”

“We need wine to talk?”

“It never hurts.”

“Oh it has harmed us plenty in the past,” Peter said, putting things away in the fridge before he took out two pops and gave one to Chris. “Turn it down, ‘Lia,” he called as the loud Disney intro started.

He didn’t get a response, but the volume lowered. Peter sat at the small square dining room table with Chris with a sight line to the living room, although his view of the girls was blocked by the couch.

“Does Malia like her so much because she can tell they’re related?” Chris asked quietly.

“Possibly,” Peter said. “She obviously knows something is different about you.”

Chris got the same arrogant smirk from the office on his face before it smoothed and his expression was incredibly warm.

“She’s beautiful. She looks so much like you,” Chris said.

“She does, but she has your eyes,” Peter said. “Allison is your carbon copy, even that determined little look on her face.”

Chris laughed slightly. “That look drives Victoria crazy.”

“Then she’s insane.”

“Or just not cut out to be a mother,” Chris said, keeping his voice low enough that even Malia wouldn’t hear. “The marriage was arranged, but she was so warm the first month, wanting to have a baby. She thought it would help me. Then once she was pregnant it was completely different. She was cold. I thought about it constantly about what it would be like if I was sharing that with you, if I was getting to take care of you like my instincts were aching for,” Chris said quietly. “Maybe it hurt so badly because I knew on some level that I had two children growing at the same time, but there were times that it hurt so badly I thought I’d go insane.”

“Maybe betas don’t feel it the same as omegas,” Peter asked.

Chris looked up, like he’d been slapped. “Did you want me?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “There were days at a time that I didn’t sleep, because my body was screaming for my alpha, who was obviously nowhere to be found. Talia and Derek took turns napping with me to keep me sane. Derek had just turned sixteen. He kept the road hot getting me anything I was craving. I’m incredibly lucky to have them.”

“I’m glad you had them,” Chris said. “I wish it could’ve been me.”

Peter looked at him for a moment before nodding.

“What name did you put on her birth certificate?”

“Thomas’s.”

“Tom?” Chris asked.

“It was the most secure way of ensuring that no one, but our pack would have claim over her.”

Chris growled quietly. Peter flicked condensation from his can at him. Chris stopped, but frowned.

“You’re never getting your name on there,” Peter said. “I’m considering letting you get to know her, but legally, she will stay with my pack, always.”

Chris frowned, but nodded.

“I’ve also thought about it and I know what I’m about to ask is a lot, but it’s the only way I can see this working,” he said quietly enough that Chris leaned toward him. “I won’t have Malia around any other hunters, but you, so I can’t-. I don’t enjoy saying this, but you can’t have a relationship with her as her father if you’re still married to Victoria. You have to understand, Chris. She is everything to me.”

Chris held Peter’s eye contact before he nodded. “I wouldn’t want Victoria around her either. She’s not a fanatic like Dad was, but she has some twisted thoughts.”

Peter nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“What about you with Allison?” Chris asked. “Can you be good to her?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because she isn’t yours.”

“But she’s yours,” Peter said. “Even if she wasn’t, she’s a little girl.”

“I had to ask.”

“So where does that leave you and Victoria?”

“I’ll call a lawyer tomorrow. She isn’t wanting to leave France anyway. I speak to her once a week. She’s Facetimed Allison twice in the month we’ve been here. Like I said, she doesn’t like being a mom. It kills me for Allison, but it’s true,” Chris said, before he exhaled. “Then I see you with Malia and you’re so good with her. I want that for Allison. I know that’s jumping the gun, but I’m all in for this. I miss you. Every single day.”

“I’ve gone this long thinking that you had had moved on with a wife and child of your own.”

“It was never like that,” Chris said quietly.

“Be good to Malia, get divorced so I can trust you to keep her on visits, and we’ll see how you and I do. I hope that you’ll allow me to keep Allison for sleepovers, especially since Malia hasn’t shut up about them having a sleepover for her birthday in a few weeks.”

“When is her birthday?”

“October 14th.”

Chris had been on the verge of it, Peter had smelled the sadness, but then his face pinched as he leaned into his hand. Peter slowly reached out to touch his back. Chris inhaled wetly a few times before he looked up wiping his eyes.

“I hate him,” Chris said weakly. “I didn’t even know her birthday? I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to you and her, I swear.”

There was no manipulating emotions into scent the way that Chris’s despair was soaking the air. Peter didn’t know why he allowed himself, but he leaned forward to hug Chris and Chris held him tightly. Peter heard him inhale against his skin and something in him collapsed. He leaned closer, gripping Chris’s t-shirt and inhaling his scent that his wolf revealed in. The side of his biology that he often hated, adored it in a way he had rarely felt for another alpha. His omega responded to him in a way he couldn’t control, but he felt Chris’s soft growl against his neck as he inhaled.

Peter started to pull away. He was going to kiss him right before he heard Malia and Allison laughing in the living room. Then he did pull away. He stood up from the dining table and went into the kitchen. He took down a box of brownie mix to keep himself busy.

The scent of brownies cooking could cover up so many things. It was also the best way to get his wolf pup to come investigating so he wouldn’t be alone with her father.

 

Since the girls didn’t have school the next day, Chris agreed to allow Allison to stay the night. They sat on the couch with glasses of wine as night fell and the girls watched three more movies. Allison wore a pair of Malia’s pajamas and Malia was all but smothering her. It made them smell the same. If he hadn’t been told they weren’t raised together, he wouldn't know it. They looked like litter mates on their pallet on the living room floor.

When Peter went to tuck Malia in, Chris came with him to put Allison to bed. Peter watched him from the corner of his eye as he pulled the blankets up around Malia. Chris looked at the stuffed animals in her room. All of them were woodland creatures. It had only seemed fitting for a small wolf cub. It was the only theme his heavily pregnant brain could settle on.

“Are you going to read?” Malia asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah,” Malia asked. “I told Allison about Harry Potter. She hasn’t read it.”

“I can’t start where we are. That wouldn’t be very nice.”

“I know. Start from the first one,” Malia asked, patting the edge of her bed, like he needed permission to sit.

Peter glanced up at Chris, but Chris was just smiling slightly at Malia.

“This is going to take awhile. You can head home or go to the living room,” Peter asked.

“I don’t mind listening,” he said.

Peter pulled The Sorcerer's Stone from Malia’s bookshelf and opened to the first page. He started to read the opening scene in his best narrator voice. He watched Allison’s eyes go wide when he changed his voice with Dumbledore's voice then Mcgonigal's. She rolled away from Chris until she was pressed against Malia and listening to Peter read. He read until his voice and the girls’ eyes were drooping. He kissed Malia on the forehead even as she argued that they hadn’t gotten to the good part of the story yet.

“I’ll mark it. Next time Allison stays over we’ll read more,” he said. Then he looked at Allison with a small smile. “We’ll make sure you don’t miss anything.”

Allison smiled. She had Chris’s dimples and the sweetness in her eyes.

“Thank you, Mr. Hale.”

“You can call me Peter,” he said.

“Okay,” she said in a small tired voice.

“Night, you two,” he said.

He turned off Malia’s bedside lamp as Chris kissed Allison’s forehead.

He waited at the door for Chris to pass him as before he pulled it closed. They went back down the hall to the living room. A Netflix commercial was showing. Peter picked up the remote and put it on something anaine.

“Are you going home?” Peter asked.

“Where did you learn to do the voices?” Chris asked, gesturing back to the bedroom.

“I’m a voice actor,” Peter asked. “I have a studio in the back of the house.”

“Really?”

“That would be an elaborate lie for no gain,” Peter said as he picked up his wine glass to regain his buzz that was beginning to taper.

“That’s amazing,” Chris said, not taking the barb as bait.

“It pays the bills.”

That was a lie. It did his bills, but he also loved it.

“Thank you for starting over like that. Allison loved it.”

“Allison didn’t say anything.”

“She laughed. You have no idea how hard that is to make her do,” Chris said.

Peter shrugged slightly. His chest felt tight. “I’m glad. She seems like a wonderful little person.”

“She is,” Chris said, still glassy-eyed from the wine. “She’s incredible,” he said. Then he looked away from the TV to Peter. “Malia is… there aren’t words. She’s like you distilled. She’s perfect.”

Peter knocked back the rest of his third glass of wine. His cheeks were warm and he couldn’t tell from what.

“You’ve done such an… You’ve done so well with her,” Chris said, taking a step closer.

“Chris,” he warned half-heartedly. He could smell the black pepper scent coming off him.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said quieter, but he didn’t step away. “Seeing how good you are with them shouldn’t make me want you more, but I can’t help it.”

It should. That was ingrained into Chris’s biology, the same way it was his own. Peter had just been good to both of his daughters. It was making his alpha react. That was leaving out the obvious affection palpitating off of him.

When Chris closed the distance between them and kissed him, Peter kissed him back. It stayed gentle and soft for a few seconds before Peter pulled him closer and kissed him harder. It was inevitable. The same way it had been that they would have to interact with their daughters being in the same class. He was going to sleep with Chris again. At least once. He could taste the lie of that one on both of their tongues as he dragged Chris into his bedroom and Chris went all too willingly.

Peter laid back on his bed and watched Chris undo his jeans. Chris pulled them down his legs along with his underwear until he was completely naked against the comforter. Chris stared at him while he pulled off his t-shirt then pushed off his own jeans and underwear.

He would like to lie and say he’d forgotten how beautiful Chris was, but he hadn’t. His stomach clenched and more slick wetted his thighs.

“Come here,” Peter said.

Chris got on the end of the bed and made Peter yelp slightly when he picked him up and scooted him farther up. Then he started to kiss and lick Peter’s dick. It was average sized for a omega, but still smaller than Chris’s. Chris took his cock fully into his mouth, sucking a few times as Peter moaned softly. Chris started to rub a finger against his opening. It was getting hot and puffy. Peter’s stomach contracted again as more slick spilled out.

Then Chris was sucking at his barely there lips, dipping his tongue into his slit and tightening his hands on Peter’s hips. He normally let men fuck his ass. It was easier. There was no chance of him getting pregnant and it still felt good, but with Chris slowly tongue fucking his slit, his insides ached. He threaded his fingers through Chris’s short hair, lifting his hips against his mouth. Chris moaned loudly.

“Come here,” Peter said, his voice rough and quiet.

Chris continued to suck and lick him for a few more moments before he crawled over Peter, his warm thick cock sliding up the slick warmth of his slit.

“You look exactly the same,” Chris said quietly.

Peter could smell his own cum on Chris’s breath.

“You look better,” Peter said, running his hands up Chris’s chest. “You’ve filled out.”

Chris smiled slightly. “I mean from carrying Malia, you don’t have any marks.”

“I do, right here,” Peter said, reaching down between them and over the very light scar from his c-section. “They have to use some wolfs bane to keep it from closing too quickly while they’re taking her out.”

Chris leaned down and kissed the scar open mouthed, running his fingers over it. Peter felt a small purr building in his chest. He hadn’t felt that in years. His alpha was happy with him for carrying their pup. His alpha knew they had a beautiful pup. A pup with his eyes and dimples.

Then Chris moved back up him, pressing his cock head against the small give of his body. Peter arched his back as soon as Chris caught on the rim, pressing closer until Chris was buried, the flare of his knot already forming. He gave a choked off moan, pressing his mouth against Peter’s neck.

“Peter,” he said.

Peter dug his fingers into back and pulled his legs farther up against Chris’s hips. His eyes were burning. His own heart was pounding as Chris started to fuck him more deeply. Peter could feel his heavy balls against his ass, the grind of his pubic hair against his throbbing dick.

“Is anyone else your alpha?” Chris whispered in his ear.

“No,” Peter said, growling quietly. Half angry that he’d admitted it and the other half angry that Chris had asked.

Chris bit his shoulder without breaking his skin, fucking him harder. Peter pressed his hand against Chris’s chest, feeling the pulse he could hear. His eyes started to sting. He had done so much by himself for him and his daughter and Chris was fucking it up. All he had to do was whisper in his ear and he felt weak. Then Peter’s hole unclenched and Chris’s knot slipped inside of him. Peter arched his back as it swelled against his g-spot and he felt the warmth of Chris’s cum filling him.

“Peter,” Chris whispered. “Shh, don’t cry.”

Peter choked, trying to keep down a sob as more tears slid back into the hair at his temples. Then Chris’s cheek was against his, just as damp as he trembled on top of him. Peter could feel his pulse inside of him where his knot was locked.

“I love you,” Chris whispered, pulling back enough to look at him.

Peter put his arms around Chris and pulled him closer, inhaling his scent. They both smelled like sex, sweat, cum, and a damp overly sweet scent. He could smell how badly Chris had wanted him. Peter bit his lower lip.

He hated Gerard Argent more than anything. He hated that Chris had listened to him and he hated that they both knew there was no choice.

“I felt alone,” Peter whispered, his voice cracking and making his face burn. Then he moaned quietly as another wave of warmth filled him from Chris. “I needed you,” he whispered.

For the first time, he admitted it, to anyone, to himself, what he had vehemently denied. But he had needed this, his alpha, his pup’s father, Chris, to be inside of him, making him feel loved and to know that he was going to love the small life growing inside of him. His pack’s touches on his stomach had helped, their words as he got bigger, but he had needed Chris. He had needed his touch, his scent, his protection when he had felt so incredibly vulnerable.

Then Chris slid from inside of him, Peter’s body clenching and keeping his cum inside. Chris touched his face softly.

“I know you did,” Chris said.

Peter sniffed and pulled away slightly. “Can you go? Sleep on the couch if you can’t drive, but if you can I’d like you to go home.”

Chris touched his brow to Peter’s and kissed him softly before pulling away. Then he got up. He gave Peter a towel from his hamper and Peter wiped between his thighs, releasing Chris’s cum from his body and onto the cloth. By the time he tossed it on the floor, Chris was pulling on his shirt.

“Can I let Allison stay? I’ll get her in the morning.”

“Of course,” he said, pulling the comforter over himself.

“I’ll start the divorce tomorrow,” Chris said, coming near the head of the bed.

Peter nodded, drawing his legs closer to himself. Chris kissed the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry if this was too quick,” he said.

Peter shook his head before he looked up at Chris. “If you fuck up again you won’t get a third chance. This hurts enough.”

“If you give me this chance I’ll do whatever you want,” Chris said, holding his cheek. “I want my family,” he whispered. “I loved you before I found out about her. Now it doesn’t feel like I can live without you.”

“I know the feeling.”

Chris paused before gently pulling down the comforter so he could see Peter’s faint scar. He ran his fingers over it again gently. “I never expected it could be this hard,” he said with his eyes damp. “I wish I’d been there to hold your hand and help you through all the pain. I would’ve given anything to see you round with our pup, to have held her within minutes of them getting her out of your body. I wouldn’t have slept for days, just to make sure you were safe and she was healthy. I hate myself for not being there. I should’ve killed him myself. I’m sorry.”

Peter took Chris’s face in his hands and pulled him down to kiss his forehead as Chris started to cry harder.

“I don’t know how to make this better, but I want to,” Chris said.

“I do too,” Peter said against his skin. “I just need time and you need time.”

Chris shook his head. “I know what I want. I’ve never not known that.”

Peter ran his fingers through Chris’s hair. “Then go home and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Chris leaned up and kissed Peter deeply until they were both breathing heavily. Then he pulled away.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Chris said.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Peter said.

Chris smiled softly as he left the door open and went down the hall to the front door. Peter heard it open and close. He got out of bed and pulled on his underwear again in case Malia crawled into bed with him. He turned off his lamp and laid in the dark, hearing the faint beat of two hearts down the hall. Chris had trusted him with Allison overnight. He had told him he loved him. Despite all logic, Peter’s chest started to hurt less as he focused on the steady ache between his legs where Chris had been.

He picked up his phone and pulled up Chris’s number.

_I can still feel you._

It was only a few minutes before a response lit his screen.

_Next time, I’ll knot you longer. I want to feel you fall asleep on me like you used to._

Peter smiled slightly.

_That only happened a few times._

_It’s seared in my mind. My sweet wolf who trusted me, a fucking Argent, enough to fall asleep while I was breeding you. I never deserved you._

Peter’s opening throbbed even as his chest did. He remembered the last time he’d fallen asleep on Chris’s knot. It had been mid-heat during the last they shared together. He wondered if that was the time Chris impregnated him, while he was asleep in his hunter’s arms, knowing that he could rest, that Chris would protect him, keep him safe. That he would never leave. Less than two weeks later, Chris was gone.

_If the girls aren’t awake when you get here in the morning, come wake me up._

Peter took off his underwear and pressed his fingers between his legs, where his normally small opening was slightly more open. It was slick and warm against his fingers. As he fell asleep, he hoped he would be waking up to Chris pushing inside of him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infidelity, because Chris sleeps with Peter while he isn't divorced. Loveless political marriage, so I'm not going to add infidelity to the tags.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning felt like a hangover as Peter got out of bed. He put on sleep pants and a t-shirt before going down the hall. Malia and Allison were already in the living room, eating cereal and watching cartoons.

“Morning, Daddy,” Malia said.

“Morning,” he said, his head pounding faintly, like he had been clenching his teeth during his sleep. “Malia, you should’ve woken me up.”

“We just wanted cereal,” Malia said.

“Was that enough for you, Allison?” Peter asked, as he went into the kitchen to clean up the mess they had inevitably made.

“Yes. Thank you,” she said.

Peter swept up the crumbs of Fruit Loops and wiped up the spilled milk, put the sweating milk jug back in the fridge, and closed up the cereal box before putting it back in the pantry. He started the coffee maker before going back down the hall to get his phone. There was a text from Chris.

_Meeting the lawyer at 9. Are you okay to keep Allison? I can make arrangements otherwise._

_Her and Malia are watching TV. Take your time, he wrote back._

He thought of making food, but the coffee sounded like enough. His stomach hurt. The night before came back like a dream. He couldn’t decide if the dream was good or bad. A handful of weeks ago, if someone had told him he would have had sex with Chris again, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Then someone knocked on his door then Malia shot off the couch. She was at the front door, pulling it open before he could say a word.

“Stiles!” she said.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing her against his hip when she hugged him. He had a box of donuts in his hand. “I heard you totally got suspended for being awesome. That’s super lame.”

“Stiles,” Peter warned.

“It was lame!” Malia said.

Stiles winced at the noise, but the smile was still there. If he was going to encourage Peter’s daughter to be a hellion, he could deal with tinnitus.

“Well I brought the good stuff if your dad is okay with it,” Stiles said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. Malia, introduce Stiles to Allison.”

“Yeah,” Malia said, pulling Stiles by his wrist to the living room.

Peter sipped his too hot coffee as Malia introduced Stiles to Allison. She flushed easily, but she shook his hand and gave another of her shy smiles.

“Can you have donuts?” Stiles asked her.

“Yeah,” Allison said.

“Come get one,” Stiles said, following Allison and Malia back into the small breakfast nook.

He gave them donuts on napkins before grabbing one for himself and coming into the kitchen as the cartoon resumed. Peter stared at him.

“How many times have I told you that you can’t bring donuts _then_ ask if she can have one in front of her?”

“I only got four this time,” Stiles said. “And I heard about yesterday. I figured if you needed to get some work done I could watch her if you wanted?”

“Thank you. If I wasn’t keeping Allison too I’d have taken you up on it.”

“So that’s his daughter then?” Stiles asked, his voice low enough that only Peter could hear.

“That’s her.”

“She’s really pretty.”

“She’s a very sweet little girl,” Peter said. “Why her and Allison get along, I have no idea.”

Stiles laughed. “So Jackson again?”

“Yes. It’s like she goes for the option that will be the biggest pain in my ass every time,” Peter said, shaking his head as he sipped more of his coffee. “I’m going to end up killing his father.”

“The kid attacked Allison?”

“Yes, then Malia went Cujo on him.”

Stiles smiled. Peter growled quietly, making Stiles laugh louder.

“Come on, she’s the size of a barbie and she still isn’t afraid to kick anyone’s ass. You have to give her that.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Well it meant that Chris met her yesterday.”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said. “How was that?”

Peter shook his head, staring into the living room at the back of Malia and Allison’s heads on the couch. “Everything felt much clearer when I was slightly drunk last night.”

Stiles shrugged, bracing on the counter. “Kids are involved. That’s always complicated, right?”

“I guess.”

“I’m glad he met her.”

“Liar. You want him to leave and never come back,” Peter said.

Stiles laughed, but it only held the barest hint of humor. “I guess I’m just glad that she got to meet him, but yeah, now he can go away.”

“Stiles,” he said, waiting until Stiles looked up from the floor. “You’ll always have a spot in Malia’s life regardless of if Chris is here or not.”

“I really hope so,” Stiles said.

“I promise,” Peter said. “I’m never going to forget how incredible you are to her and me.”

Stiles’s cheeks tinted slightly red. For one of the rare times, Peter went forward and gave Stiles a hug. Stiles had only been a wolf for three years. The hot smell of his territorial feelings was like warm tar. He couldn’t help it and Peter didn’t hold it against him. Stiles squeezed him before pulling away.

“So are you going to get back with him?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. When Stiles looked at the kitchen floor again and the scent of hurt intensified.

“I get it.”

“I’m not rushing into anything.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t know why he said that to Stiles. He wouldn’t rush anything, but the hurt on his face was more hurtful than he would’ve thought. After the night before, he couldn’t deny that he harbored strong feelings for Chris. He had left doors open that he had no one, but himself to blame.

Peter looked at Stiles in his kitchen, where he had seen him so many times and six years of absence suddenly had a face and a name.

 

After Stiles left for work, Peter spent the morning working a Mona puzzle with Malia and Allison at the kitchen table. They mostly talked among themselves. Even after years of living with her, Peter only understood half of what Malia said. Her imagination was a strong and wild creature within her. As easy as she made friends, she had lost nearly that number just by the way she spoke of fictional things and stories.

Peter smiled slightly, listening to Allison add things to Malia’s stories with details of her own. They took their stories as fact. They spoke about it with such understated conviction on Allison’s part and enthusiasm on Malia’s fact that Peter almost felt left out of their world of unicorns, magic, and kingdoms.

It was nearly noon and the girls were back in the living room, coloring at the coffee table while they watched TV and Peter answered some emails on his laptop in the kitchen to give them a vague sense of independence, when he heard Chris’s 4Runner pull into his driveway.

Once again, Malia was the first to the door. Since Gerard had died that habit gave him much less anxiety.

“Hi,” Malia said.

“Hey,” Chris said, looking down at her. He still looked stunned when he looked at her. Luckily, Malia was too young to be suspicious the dumbstruck fevor of it.

“Hi, Daddy,” Allison said, coming to the door.

“Hey, baby girl. Did you have a good time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I had a donut.”

“Yeah?”

“I hope that was okay,” Peter said. “A friend of mine brought them when he heard Malia had been suspended.”

“Yeah that’s fine,” Chris said, squeezing Allison’s shoulder. “Do you want to go back into the living room with Malia for a second? I need to talk to Peter, then we can go.”

“Okay,” Allison said.

Peter watched her go back to the living room so easily. There were times, many times, that he wished Malia listened that well. There was no reason to hope for things that would never happen though. That same spirit that could sometimes drive him insane would one day make her a formidable adult. Or at least that’s what he told himself when he was at his wits end.

Chris came into the kitchen, but didn’t sit down.

“Can you come outside?” he asked.

“Okay,” Peter said, following Chris out onto the front porch.

“Can she hear out here?” Chris asked.

“No. Just keep your voice low.”

“I got the paperwork started. I called Victoria too,” Chris said.

“How did that go?”

Chris shrugged. “She was about as surprised as I would’ve been if she’d have served me with papers. We have some properties to divide and settle. She’s agreed, at least verbally, for me to have full custody.”

“That’s good,” Peter said.

“It’s a good start.”

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know. Either in shock or I really don’t care this much,” Chris said. “I care for Allison, but I’ve always been the primary parent. I’m worried it’ll fuck her up, but in the long run, I think having Victoria around, parents that don’t love each other, will fuck her up even more.”

“Children are resilient.”

Chris nodded. “How was she?”

“The perfect little house guest.”

Chris smiled slightly. “I know it’s soon, but do you mind if I take them to the park?”

Peter held his eyes for a moment, a voice in his head devolving into growling and another pushing himself to open up. He could trust Chris. He repeated it in his mind even as he didn’t believe it.

“That would be okay. I need to get some work done,” he said.

“No chance I can talk you out of that and into coming with us?” Chris asked.

“I don’t think so,” he said with a small smile. “If you could, just have Malia back by six.”

“Okay,” Chris said, some of the excitement leaving his eyes. “I was going to take them to get something to eat after. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. If you get her beef of any kind, cut it small. She’ll choke.”

“Eyes bigger than her stomach?”

“Pretty much.”

“Got it,” Chris said.

When they went back inside, both girls were still coloring, glancing at the TV every few seconds. As soon as Allison saw Chris again, she fixated on him. She looked at him how an anxious Collie looked at its human, like he could disappear at any moment.

“Hey, do you guys want to go to the park?” Chris asked.

“Which one?” Malia asked.

Even as Allison said, “Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Which one do you like?” Chris asked Malia.

“The one with the monkey bars,” Malia said.

“It’s at 35th and York, by the Whole Foods.”

Chris nodded at him. “Okay, that’s the one.”

Malia’s noise of excitement was loud enough to make Peter squint.

“Let me get her booster seat out of my car,” Peter said.

“I bought one for her,” Chris said. “You can come make sure it’s okay?”

Peter paused, speechless for a second before he shook his head. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Then Peter went down the hallway to Malia’s bedroom. He grabbed her weekend backpack and went back to the kitchen. He put in some juice boxes with a cooling pack, a few snacks, and made sure the extra pair of underwear and shorts were inside. She hadn’t had an accident in over a year, but he would rather Chris be prepared.

“My numbers, Talia’s, and John Stilinski, the sheriff’s, numbers are all right here,” he said, unzipping the main compartment to show the clear card holder.

“The sheriff? You don’t take chances,” Chris said.

“He’s the father of one of mine and Malia’s packmates. If something major happens, he can usually get to you before even Talia or I.”

Chris gave him a small smile. “I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Come on, kids. Let’s go,” Chris said, ushering them toward the door. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Have fun. Be careful.”

“We will be,” Chris said, as he went to the 4Runner and checked the backseats where the booster seats were before getting into the driverseat.

Peter watched from the window until they drove away before he went back to his studio.

 

At six, Peter came out of his studio with his throat slightly sore. He could hear faint voices on the front porch. He stepped outside to find Chris talking with Talia. Allison and Malia were playing tag in the fading light. Both Talia and Chris were smiling, so Peter tried to relax.

“Hey,” Chris said, as he came out.

“You should’ve come and gotten me,” Peter said.

“I didn’t mind. They’re having fun,” Chris said, watching the girls.

“I came over as soon as he got here,” Talia said, leaning against the post for the porch and giving Peter her best smile that he didn’t trust at all.

“Harmless, I’m sure,” Peter said.

“Of course,” Talia said, then she looked at Chris, who was staring at Allison and Malia again. He wasn’t taking his eyes off of them. “She’s beautiful isn’t she?”

“That’s not even the right word,” Chris said.

Peter smiled slightly, feeling the warmth spread through his chest. “They’ve both stunning.”

“They are. Did you reproduce Asexually, Chris? Because Allison looks just like you,” Talia said.

Chris laughed. “No. Victoria just has mostly recessive traits.”

Peter, Talia, and Chris stood on the porch for a few silent moments with them watching the girls who couldn’t have been less aware of being watched. Then Talia looked at Chris.

“You get one chance with her, Chris.”

“I understand,” Chris said.

Talia’s eyes flashed and Peter felt his do the same thing. Then Talia smiled slightly as her eyes faded to her normal green. Then she held out her arms. Chris hugged her, a tight squeeze.

“I’ll see you two later,” she said when she pulled away. “Bye, girls,” she called as she went down the steps.

“Night, Aunt Talia,” Malia yelled.

Peter leaned against the siding of the house, watching the girls, playing near the edge of the woods. Even that used to cause him to scent the air so often it was hard to keep a conversation intact. Since Gerard had died, the compulsion had faded to the point that he could control it.

“Did you get your work done?”

“A lot of it,” Peter said. “Did you have fun?”

Chris nodded. “We went to the park, the stuffed animal place, then to get dinner, and ice cream.”

“Pulling out the big guns,” Peter said.

“I have a lot to make up for.”

“You don’t have to do it all in one day,” Peter said with a slight laugh, but his chest felt warm.

“Get used to it. I’m going to go over the top for awhile. I know me enough to know that.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Chris leaned on the porch railing, still watching the girls as it got darker. “They click so well.”

“She’s Malia’s pack. Even if she doesn’t know it.”

“At least that part is easy,” Chris said before he turned away from the yard and looked at Peter. “I’m sorry if I pushed too hard last night. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“We both knew that was going to happen sooner or later,” Peter said. “But I was wrong to think it could be fixed that simply or even that we could start on the path to fixing things between us that quickly. As far as you and Malia, I want you to spend time with her. I want her to know you. As for us, I don’t know what I want.”

“I understand,” Chris said.

“I’m not the same boy you knew, Chris,” Peter said when he saw the disappointment in his eyes. “You aren’t the same person I knew either. That might as well have been a lifetime ago.”

“I know, but who you’ve turned into it’s better than I would’ve believed.”

“You don’t know enough to say that.”

Chris stared at him for a moment, the sound of Allison and Malia’s voices mixing in the late summer air with the sound of cicadas and frogs near the pond a half-acre away.

“Maybe I don’t, but I’m going to find out.”

Peter smiled slightly. “You never knew how to make a compliment not sound like a threat.”

Chris laughed slightly. “Then maybe we haven’t changed as much as you think.”

“I don’t know. Do you feel like the same person you were when you were twenty-six?”

“When I’m near you? I can feel that person again.”

It felt like Peter’s world view shifted for just a moment. It slid over itself like projected images. That was how he felt the night before, like the twenty-three year old boy who had been so in love with Chris it had clouded his judgement to the point of near psychosis. If he could bring that naive person back and merge it with the suspicious person he had become, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Maybe that isn’t a good thing,” Peter said.

“Look what we got out of it,” Chris said, looking at Malia. “Nothing that resulted in her could be all bad.”

Peter watched the girls for awhile longer. Chris could still sit in silence. Once upon a time, Peter had felt the need to fill those gaps with words. Now he didn’t. By the time Gerard had pulled them apart, they were learning that skill as well. The art of sitting in silence and feeling at peace.

If there had been no Gerard Argent, Chris would have been his soulmate. He wouldn’t have been the one who got away. He wouldn’t have been a man he looked back on in regret. He would’ve been the man at his side as he grew old. They would’ve had another child together by now.

But Gerard Argent had stayed alive nearly seven years too long.

Peter didn’t know where that left him other than standing on the porch of his home, with the father of his child, watching her play with her half-sister that was only six months younger.


	5. Chapter 5

On Monday, Malia and Allison went back to school. After they dropped Malia and Allison off separately, Peter drove to a small cafe on the main street of Beacon Hills. There wasn’t a car in sight that didn’t cost less than sixty thousand dollars as he parked along the shaded curb. 

Only a few moments later, Chris parallel parked behind him and got out of his 4Runner. He smiled at Peter as he reached the sidewalk. Peter let Chris hug him. He initiated the kiss when they half pulled away and Chris gave it back. 

“How was your morning?” Chris asked, as they walked into the cafe with Chris holding the door open for him. 

“Fine. She’s a banshee in the morning,” he said. “You?” 

“Allison threw a little bit of a fit after not having to wake up early for so many days,” Chris said. 

“Allison throwing a fit? I don’t believe it,” he said, standing in line for the register. The scent of coffee was almost overpowering. 

“She can throw one with the best of them,” Chris said, looking around the cafe. “This is nice.” 

“It’s pretentious, but the food is good,” Peter said. 

They talked about the menu and the decor until they reached the counter. Peter ordered his food, then Chris ordered his own then paid before Peter could. 

“I asked you out,” Chris said, as he put his card up. 

“Fine,” Peter said, going to find them a table. 

They sat in a booth along the window, waiting for their food. Their coffee was brought sooner for which he was grateful. He drank the cold brew deeply. He had stayed up far too late getting some work done. Then Stiles had showed up at his door at midnight. He couldn’t explain the hard, fast quickie they had on the kitchen table, only that it had happened and he wasn’t sorry for it. 

Stiles eyes turned a beautiful shade of amber when his wolf came out during sex. It was like the lighter tones in his human eyes were amplified ten-fold. 

“Peter?” 

“Hm?” Peter asked. 

“I said you look tired,” Chris said, laughing slightly. “I guess you are.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Yes, I am. I’m going to take a nap when I get home.” 

“We can cancel-” 

“No, I’m glad we’re here,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. If he was human, Stiles’s claw marks would still be on his back, but it still wasn’t a lie that he was happy to be sitting across from Chris. He didn’t have the mental energy to examine it any closer than that. 

“Do you have any plans for Malia’s birthday party?” 

“We normally have a party in Talia’s backyard. She has a heated pool and plenty of room for the kids to be outside,” he said. 

“Can I come?” 

Peter nodded. “As long as things are still going this smoothly. You’ll be bringing Allison anyway.” 

“Good,” Chris said. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” 

“That’s Talia’s department,” he said. “As for presents, she loves Star Wars, Jurassic Park, coloring. If you have an idea for a toy, let me know so I can ask Talia, Stiles, or Derek if they’ve already bought it.” 

Chris laughed. “Spoiled girl.” 

“You have no idea.” 

“I know what I’d like to get her, but I understand if it’s too much,” he said. 

Peter actually heard a blip in his pulse then, a slight uptick that lingered. He raised his brow, waiting for Chris to continue. 

“When I kept them Saturday, they kept going through Allison’s dog breed book-” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Chris.” 

“Hear me out,” Chris said. “I’ve been wanting to get Allison a puppy since we moved back, then with her knowing about the divorce now, I just feel like it would be a good distraction for her, but if Malia has wanted a puppy before this then I’m not getting one a puppy without the other.” 

There was a sharp pull at Peter’s heart then.

“Has she wanted a puppy?” Chris asked. 

“She’s a six year old werewolf. Of course she wants a puppy,” Peter said. “If I say no are you going to get Allison her puppy?” 

“I wouldn’t feel right about that.” 

“So you’re asking if I’m okay with making two little girls unhappy?” 

Chris laughed slightly. “I’m sorry.” 

Peter sighed. “It has to be a tough dog. She plays extremely rough with anything even resembling a wolf.” 

“I already have two picked out. I just needed your permission before putting the deposits on them. They’ll be eight weeks old the week of her birthday.” 

“That was dirty,” Peter asked. 

Chris laughed slightly again, only the barest hint of shame on his face. “I’m sorry.” 

“So do I need to change my present to a kennel or anything like that?” 

Chris shook his head. “I’ll get all of that. I’m going to sign them up for training classes so Allison and Malia can learn to give them commands. I’ll take them to the classes of course, if you’re okay with that.” 

Peter shook his head slightly. “You’re doing too much.” 

“I’m not. It seems like a good way for me to get to spend time with both of them.” 

“That’s very sweet.” 

“It’s no less than I should’ve been doing for years.” 

He was interrupted by the waitress bringing their food. They ate in silence for a few minutes before agreeing that the food was good. Peter was already wondering if he should get a fence for the dog. Maybe the electric underground fences would work. He didn’t want fences obstructing his view of the woods. Then again, if he could call Malia back, he was sure he could do the same with a dog. If nothing else, no dog Chris would buy Malia would be able to outrun Peter in a full-shift. 

“What are you doing for work?” Peter asked after he had eaten enough to feel like talking. 

“Mostly arms dealing and consulting. I’ve been out of hunting for the most part for almost two years.” 

“Do you like it?” 

Chris nodded. “I still get to use my knowledge and help, but I’m not getting broken bones anymore.” 

“That’s good.” 

They chatted about each other’s jobs for awhile in a way they hadn’t been able to do nearly a decade ago. Chris had still been bitter and resentful about his career path and Peter hadn’t had a career to speak of. Before, Chris had seemed so confident. It had drawn Peter to him like a moth to a flame. Now, Peter saw the difference. Chris hadn’t been confident before. He had been afraid and pushing out as much bravado as possible. Now, he was confident. He was doing work he enjoyed at the very least. 

After they finished the breakfast, they lingered on the sidewalk. Peter was tempted to invite Chris back to his house. Being near him, it was impossible to ignore the way Chris looked at him or the way his hair was graying at his temples and his beard looked like it would feel rough and perfect on his inner thighs. 

“I’m going to take a nap,” Peter said. “You can come with me if you want.” 

The words were out of Peter’s mouth before he really understood that he had said them. He didn’t regret them though. 

Less than thirty minutes later, Peter was on his hands and knees with Chris behind him. He knotted him again and Peter gripped the sheets as his own body pulsed around the warm flesh inside of him. Chris gently moved him without breaking apart. Peter fitted to the angles of Chris’s larger body perfectly with his knot still buried in him. 

He was asleep well before Chris slipped out of him. His exhausted brain was far too gone to think of it was romantic or as a bonding moment. Still, Chris’s chest against his back and his arms around him made sleep overtake his mind easily. 

 

The next few weeks passed in a blur. 

Peter worked while Malia was at school, Chris had to leave for three days for a contract, Peter volunteered to keep Allison and Chris agreed. When he came back, late in the night, Peter let him in his bed again. 

As Chris was cumming inside of him, he thought he should get the morning after pill the next day. He had felt light-headed and hot, but hadn’t thought anything of it until Chris was already knotted in him. 

The next day, they took the girls to the aquarium. Peter had walked around with Allison while Malia dragged Chris off to look at the sharks. Allison’s hand had felt so small and cool in his own with his werewolf heat. When he picked her up to get a better look at the clownfish in one tank and the river otters playing in another closure, she went easily, chatting in a way he hadn’t heard before that weekend. 

As they kneeled by the touch tank, watching the girls running their hands over the back of horseshoe crabs and rays, Peter had been able to smell Chris’s contentment over the scent of the water cleaner they used and the faint scent of fish. 

By the time he remembered feeling hot the days before, it was past his twenty-four hour window. 

It didn’t matter. He hadn’t had a heat in years. There was no point in worrying when it would come to nothing. 

 

Two weeks later, after dropping Malia off at school, Peter went to Talia’s house. As soon as he opened the door to her house, he smelled the sweet scent of vanilla. The coffee he drank earlier was sitting heavily, like he hadn’t eaten enough with it. Which was accurate since he hadn’t eaten anything. Not with oversleeping his own alarm by nearly thirty minutes. 

“Hey, baby brother,” Talia said, as he came into the kitchen. 

“Morning,” he said, going to her fridge to get something to wash down the thick feeling in the back of his throat. 

He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat at her island while she finished cooking a few more pieces of french toast. 

“That smells good,” he said. 

“Does it?” she asked, “Because you look like you want to puke.” 

“I didn’t sleep well.” 

“Coffee?” 

“I’ve had enough.” 

“Okay,” she said as she made their plates, when she would normally make him get up and make his own. “So how are things going?” 

“Good,” he said, taking a small bite of the toast. When it went down easily, he took another bite. By the third bite, the empty hollow feeling in his stomach was dissipating. 

“Chris has been over a lot,” she said. 

“Nosey.” 

“Stiles has been over too,” she said, glancing at him. 

“What can I say? Maybe I should’ve been a were-cougar.” 

Talia laughed as she took a drink of her own coffee. “So it still isn’t exclusive with Chris?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“Does Chris know that?” 

“I don’t know what Chris knows,” he said. “But I’m not responsible for what his absence has caused.” 

Talia shrugged. “Fair enough. Stiles has done a lot.” 

“He’s done more than a lot,” Peter said. “He would be Malia’s stepfather in a heartbeat if I asked him.” 

“He would,” Talia said. “But is that what you would want?” 

“I don’t even know,” Peter said. 

They finished eating with only the clicking of their silverware in the kitchen and morning birds singing outside of the windows. He needed to make up his mind about Chris or Stiles. He knew that much was apparent, but it had only been a few weeks. If they got sick of his shit then both of them could tell him to fuck himself. He would understand. 

He was lost in thought when Talia stood beside him. She ran her hand through his hair he hadn’t fixed. 

“You should go sleep-” she said before she frowned at him. Suspicious. “Come here,” she said, pulling him off the barstool. 

“Easy. I have a headache,” he said, following her into the living room then out of the front door to the front porch. “Talia, what are you doing?” he asked. 

Then she moved forward and all but face planted in his neck. His wolf immediately responded by letting her smell then she pulled back with a crease between her eyebrows. She pressed the back of her hand against his brow. She felt cool. 

“Peter James.” 

“What?” he asked, but the pit of his stomach was dropping. He suddenly felt much more awake. 

“Go get a fucking pregnancy test,” she said. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “You have to have heats to get pregnant.” 

“Just go,” she said. 

“I’m tired-” 

“Peter, go now.” 

“Drive me at least,” he said. 

“Fine,” she said, going back into grab her purse and keys. “How old are you again?” 

“Shut up,” he said, following her to her Infinity. 

“Too old for unplanned pregnancies.” 

“I’m not pregnant,” he said. 

“We’ll see.” 

As they drove into town, Peter stared at the overcast sky and almost fell asleep with the slight rocking of the SUV passing over the smooth pavement. It was only a ten minute drive and soon Talia was taping him on the shoulder to get out. 

He went in by himself and straight to the section he hadn’t be in in years. The brands were still all the same. He picked up a few boxes, looking for the ones that were for male omegas and werewolves. Only a few fit the bill and one promised accurate results five days sooner. One promised them ten days sooner, which seemed suspicious since werewolf pregnancies could be detected by at home tests in two weeks. In the end, he just grabbed one and went toward the register. 

He cut through the candy aisle to grab chocolate when he saw Stiles. He tried to back up, but Stiles looked up at that exact moment with a Reeses in his hand. He smiled. It was still a sleepy smile that early in the morning.

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” Peter said. 

Then Stiles looked down and Peter tried to hide the box, but it as useless. Stiles’s face crinkled before his lips parted and he looked up at Peter like a deer caught in a spot light. 

“It’s for Talia. Don’t tell anyone,” he lied. 

“Yeah. Sure,” he said. “Really? Talia?”

“I know. I’m surprised too,” he said before he grabbed a bag of chocolate off the shelf. “I need to go. She’s waiting. Have a good day at work.” 

“You too,” Stiles said, staring after him like he was still confused. 

Peter was through the check out in record time. When he got back in the SUV, Talia was listening to the morning news. 

“I told Stiles the test was for you,” he said. 

“Stiles? Why?” she asked, her voice raising. 

“He was in the fucking store. He saw it in my fucking hands,” he said. “How hard is it to look out for a baby blue Jeep?” 

“I didn’t realize I was playing lookout,” she said as she exited the parking lot. 

“Jesus,” Peter said, closing his eyes and leaning back against the headrest. 

The pregnancy test would be negative and he wouldn’t have to worry about this anymore. He almost laughed when he realized he had been thinking the same thing when he picked up the test that confirmed he was pregnant with Malia so many years ago. 

 

 

Peter stared at the pregnancy test on Talia’s bathroom counter. She leaned against it with her hand over her mouth. Peter walked away, only to come back and stare at it again. 

“We can go to Deaton and have it taken care of.” 

Peter stared at the test and frowned. The thought had some appeal, but it was fleeting. 

“No.” 

“And you have no idea who is more likely as the father?” 

“How would I? I’ve been sleeping with both of them like a fucking rabbit.” 

“Whore.” 

Peter threw the empty pregnancy test box at her. She knocked it away. 

“How soon can Deaton tell?” Peter asked. 

“I’ll call him,” she asked “Are you going to tell them?” 

“Of course.” 

Then Talia surprised him by smiling. It was a real smile. It was still mixed with surprise and maybe some judgement, but there was pure happiness beginning in her eyes. 

“You’re having another baby,” she said. 

Peter blinked then laughed slightly before he was smiling and couldn’t help it. “Yeah I guess I am,” he said. “Holy shit.” 

Talia laughed before he pulled him forward and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back. It didn’t matter who the father was. He had raised one pup to nearly seven years old without her father. If neither of them wanted anything to do with him after this, that was fine. 

It would still be his pup. 

He was still having another baby. He squeezed Talia closer and felt a warmth spreading through his body that he knew was entire psychological, but it didn’t matter. 

He was having another baby. 

And he couldn’t be happier about it. 

 

 

That night, after he had put Malia to bed, there was a knock on his door. He hadn’t heard a vehicle, which meant it was either Talia or Stiles. He wasn’t surprised to see Stiles on his front porch. He had his hands in his hoodie pockets. It was one human habit he hadn’t dropped. He said he loved to be warm, instead of just comfortable. 

“Good evening,” Peter said. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, rolling his lip between his teeth before he looked up at Peter. “I went back and looked at the shelf. The blue box you had was for male omegas.” 

Peter exhaled, leaning on the open doorway. “Do you want to come in?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just really-,” Stiles shrugged hard. “Have you taken it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well?” 

“It says I’m pregnant. I need to go to the doctor of course.” 

“But false positives are really rare,” Stiles said, his dark eyes nearly glowing. “It really said you’re pregnant? I didn’t think you were in heat-” 

“Stiles,” he said gently. “I don’t know if it’s yours or Chris’s.” 

Stiles started to open his mouth then closed it. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I never wanted to put myself in this position, let alone you. I should’ve used protection, but like you said, I wasn’t in heat. I thought I was fine.” 

“It could be mine?” 

“Yes.” 

Stiles stared at him, his lips parting slightly. “Wow.” 

“If it is yours, I’m prepared to take care of the baby myself.” 

Stiles frowned, his eyes coming back to focus on his face. “What? No fucking way. I just want to know if it’s mine.” 

Peter growled softly. He felt his eyes flash and couldn’t help it. His wolf was already like a coil in his mind, mentally twisting around the tiny growth inside of him. 

“No matter who the father is, its mine. Just like Malia.” 

Stiles smiled, just one half of his mouth. A small growl started to begin again, but Peter stopped. He never felt like Stiles was patronizing him. The way he looked at him was like he was impressed and surprised by him all at the same time. 

“I hope it’s mine.” 

“Of course you would, look at me,” Peter said. 

Stiles smiled wider then stepped closer. Peter didn’t pull away as Stiles brushed his nose against his own. He liked the smell of Stiles, like the cedar of the closet his clothing was kept in and the leather spray he used in his car. 

“I know you don’t need anyone to take care of you, but I don’t really care,” Stiles said. 

Peter growled quietly before kissing Stiles softly. It was just as much of a warning as a concession as Peter kissed him back. The low simmering thought that it could be Stiles’s pup growing in him caused a fluttering in his gut with him this close. 

“If it’s yours I won’t be disappointed,” Peter said. 

Stiles laughed with his forehead still against Peter’s for a moment. “Thanks so much.” 

Peter smiled. Then kissed him again. 

“You would be a wonderful dad, Stiles,” Peter said quietly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” Peter said, “I’m not sleeping with either of you until I find out who the father is.” 

“Loser.” 

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

Stiles laughed slightly before he backed away. He looked down at Peter’s flat stomach, like he wanted to touch, but there was nothing there. 

“Don’t say anything to anyone, please.” 

“I won’t,” Stiles said. 

“That includes your dad,” Peter said. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to tease him about being a granddad until I know.” 

“Good,” Peter said. “Now I’m going to sleep and try to figure out how a three bedroom house is going to work for two kids.” 

Stiles laughed slightly, but he lingered. “Good luck.” 

“Good night.” 

“Night,” Stiles said, walking off the porch before he turned around. “I want it to be mine.” 

Peter gave him a small, but genuine smile as he went back into his house and softly closed to the door to keep from waking Malia up. His heart was still pattering in his chest in a way he wasn’t completely familiar with when it came to Stiles. Stiles was comfortable and sweet, but he didn’t generally give Peter palpitations. As he stood near the front door, he felt them in his chest and something strange in his stomach although he knew it was impossible to feel the small life growing in him so soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Malia’s birthday was not just a birthday in the Hale household. As the baby of the family, it was treated more like a minor holiday. Laura, Talia’s oldest daughter, came in from the city where she practiced law with her girlfriend. Derek was there with Stiles, setting up the table where the caterers would put the food. They set up a table for the presents and Peter went between his and Talia’s house, because he had people putting in an underground fence for her new puppy. 

At five that evening, there was a fire going in the pit while parents of the Malia’s classmates socialized. One notable exception were the Whitmores. Peter had sent an invitation with Malia, as were the rules of her school, no student could be left out of parties like this. However, if he received Peter hadn’t asked. He hoped she threw it in the trash as soon as she walked in the school doors. 

In the end, it didn’t matter how many kids showed up, Malia and Allison were stuck to each other like glue. They played tag with the other kids then hide and seek, which Malia always won. Peter watched her intentionally not find Alison's hiding spot and smiled. Talia noticed the same thing and laughed. 

 

“God they are too sweet,” she said. 

“They are,” Peter said. 

“You should tell her they’re sisters for her birthday,” Talia said, saying it close to his ear. 

“I think I’m going to,” he said, watching the girls play. “I think she’s going to be happy about that.” 

“So do I,” Talia said. “Where is Chris?” 

“He had to go get Malia’s present,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’ll be here late.” 

“She’s going to love that too.” 

“Just what I need right now.” 

“You bring all of this terrible terrible pain on yourself,” Talia said. 

“I’m aware.” 

They opened a pile of presents that Malia did not need. Talia got her the newest tablet. Laura got her the Jurassic Park set that Peter knew cost close to two hundred dollars, set with enclosures, and multiple dinosaurs. Peter gave her a hug for that one while Malia squealed over it. John, Stiles’s father, gave her a Jurassic Park backpack and the indomidous rex that Laura’s set didn’t come with. Derek gave her two Jurassic Park themed nerf gun. Peter was getting increasingly suspicious of the theme of her gifts before Stiles came forward and got on Malia’s level. He took a Jurassic World hat from behind it back and put it on over her long dark blonde hair. 

“Are you ready for the coolest thing I’ve seen in forever?” he asked. 

“Yes!” 

“Dad, bring it out,” Stiles said, called toward the house. 

Then Peter saw Chris out of the corner of his eye, joining the group of parents. He met Peter’s eyes and smiled before coming over to join him. 

“Hey,” Chris said. 

“Where is the menace?” Peter asked. 

“In your house. I’ll give him to her when most of the other kids are gone,” he said. 

“Good idea,” Peter said. 

Then John came out of Talia’s house, carrying a battery powered Jeep with the Jurassic World logo on the sides. Malia squealed then wrapped her arms around Stiles’s hips. Stiles crouched down and squeezed her before taking her over to look at the Jeep. Malia pulled Allison into the passenger side and they took off. 

“Stiles,” Peter said, after they drove away. 

Stiles smiled as he came over. “Come on, she really wanted it.” 

“I know she did. Thank you,” Peter said, kissing his cheek with his arm around his lower back. 

“I’m just glad she likes it,” Stiles said with a thousand watt smile. 

“I think that’s more than like,” Chris said. “Good job.” 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, smiling at Chris. Less excitement, but no hostility. 

“I don’t think we’ve met, but Malia talks about you often,” Chris said, holding out his hand. “Chris Argent.” 

“Stiles,” Stiles said, shaking his hand. “Allison is a great kid.” 

“She is,” Chris said. 

Then Talia called Stiles over to do something or another, probably just to diffuse the slight tension building in Peter’s shoulders as the two possible father’s of his brewing baby were talking. 

As night fell, most people took their kids home after eating cake and all the food they could handle. Malia and Allison were still cruising around the backyard in her Jeep with a functional light bar. Peter’s jaw nearly hit the floor when she switched spots with Allison and let her drive. 

“I want to tell her they’re sisters tonight,” Peter said as he and Chris watched them. 

“Really?” Chris asked. 

Peter nodded. “She loves her so much. You’re putting in the effort. I want her to know.” 

Chris looked at him and in the glint of firepit, his eyes looked stunning. He could deal with another baby with those eyes. 

“Thank you,” Chris said. 

Peter squeezed his hand. 

Then John came over. “The birthday girl doesn’t look like she’s stopping any time soon, but I wanted to say bye.” 

Peter hugged John. “Thank you for her gift. She loved it.” 

“It’s nothing. She’s a good girl,” he said, then he looked at Chris and nodded. “I’m Stiles’s dad. John Stilinski.” 

“Chris Argent,” he said, shaking John’s hand. 

“It’s good to finally meet the other half of that little thing. We love her to death,” John said. 

“It’s good to meet the people who have been her family. Thank you.” 

Peter was surprised by how humble Chris sounded about it. There was no defensiveness. No arguing that he hadn’t even known she existed. He couldn’t even fault John, a man who had put Stiles first at all costs. To a man like John, the thought of having a child that wasn’t your world was unacceptable. 

“I hope you get to know her as well as we have,” John said. 

“I have every intention of it.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” John said. “Good night.” 

“Good night, John,” Peter said. 

A few more parents said goodbye before it was down to the core of the pack. Peter told them goodbye, giving Stiles another kiss on the cheek and hug before he did to the rest of the pack thanking them before he and Chris walked across the yard to his house. Malia and Allison followed in her Jeep. 

“Girls, I want you to follow Peter to the backyard and I’ll be right out with your present, Malia.” 

“Okay,” she said. 

Peter went around to the backyard with the girls. They were talking about some of Malia’s presents before Chris opened the back door. 

“Turn around, kids,” he said. 

Both girls turned around. 

“Now just so you know, there’s two of these and one is for Allison and one is for you Malia.” 

“You got me a present?” Allison asked. 

“We had to get them together,” Chris said. 

Peter turned back and saw Chris holding the collar of two large pale-coated dogs with black faces and erect ears. 

“Okay, turn around,” Chris said as he let go of their collars. 

As soon as the girls turned, they squealed. 

“Your names are on your puppy’s tag,” Chris said. 

The girls laughed and screamed louder petting the puppies that were smothering them. They were a large enough breed that they took the loving of both girls with enthusiasm. Peter laughed when he saw Allison’s cheeks were damp. He was close enough to hug her. 

“It’s okay, honey,” he said. 

“I’m just so happy,” she said. 

Then Chris was there crouching down in front of her. “Do you like him?” 

Allison nodded. 

“Malia, do you like yours?” 

“He’s so cute,” Malia said, hugging her puppy. 

“Easy, sweetheart. You don’t want to hurt him,” Peter reminded. 

“Sorry, puppy,” she said, letting him go slightly. The puppy licked her face even more. 

Then the girls were up and running from them. The puppies chased them, obviously from the same liter. They were stocky and clumsy, but they looked like they would be beautiful dogs. 

“German Shepherds?” 

“And Akita,” Chris said. “They’ll take training, but after that we’ll never have to worry about the kids with those dogs around.” 

“Good job,” Peter said, touching Chris’s lower back. 

“Thanks,” Chris said. 

They sat on the back porch steps and watched puppies and the girls running all over the backyard. By the time the girls came back to the porch, the young puppies followed after them with their tongues lolled out. Peter petted the one that came up to him with Malia’s name written on its dog tag. The puppy licked him. Peter’s wolf flashed its eyes at it and the puppy barked. 

Peter laughed. 

The puppy licked him again. 

They responded well to wolves. Chris had hit a home run. 

“Okay, one more thing to tell you then it’ll be time to get ready for bed,” Peter said. 

“Okay,” Malia said. 

Peter grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. Chris did the same thing with Allison. 

“You know how you ask me who you other daddy is so much?” he asked. 

“Mhm,” Malia said.   
The spike of Chris’s anxiety was acidic. Malia glanced toward him. 

“Well, Chris is your dad and that makes Allison your sister.” 

Malia’s eyes went wide. They flashed gold then back to Chris’s light blue. “You’re my dad?” 

Chris nodded. “I wasn’t very smart and I didn’t know your daddy had you. I’m so glad I found out-” 

Then Malia grabbed him around his shoulders. Chris hugged her back tightly. Allison put her small hand on Malia’s back. Chris squeezed his eyes shut and Peter could smell the flood of affection pouring off of him. Malia would be able to smell it too. She would smell the love her father had for her. His eyes burned. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I’ll be here from now on. I love you so much,” he said. 

Malia pulled back then she looked at Allison. 

“We’re sisters!” 

Allison laughed before Malia hugged her hard. Allison hugged her back tightly. Her love for Malia was strong, but it wasn’t overlaced with guilt like Chris’s. It smelled so pure. When they pulled away, Peter took Allison’s hand. 

“I know I’m not your blood parent, but I want you to know that to me, you’re my pack. That means a lot to a werewolf.” 

“Dad told me about wolf packs,” Allison said. 

“You’re that to Malia and I,” Peter said. 

Allison smiled then hugged him. Peter hugged her back. Then he pulled back and smiled at her before he cleared his throat. 

“Okay, time for pajamas and a movie, then sleep,” he said. 

“Can the puppies sleep in my room?” Malia asked. 

“For tonight,” Peter said. 

Both girls cheered as they went in the back door. 

“Go brush your teeth,” Peter called as he closed the door behind them. 

He stopped Chris and hugged him tightly. Chris hugged him closer before pushing him against the house. Peter held on to his shoulders, breathing in his scent in the early fall evening. He could smell the trees around them thinking of changing. 

Chris kissed him deeply and Peter held his face until they finally pulled apart. 

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly. 

Peter kissed him again before he pulled open the back door and they went inside to make sure the girls were settled. They found a pile of kid and dog in Malia’s bed, the TV already on with one of their Disney movies playing. Peter took a picture with his phone and sent it to Talia. 

“Happy birthday, ‘Lia,” he said. 

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, squeezing her puppy. The tired dog barely opened his eyes. 

He left her door open and went down the hallway. He watched TV with Chris in the living room, occasionally kissing and feeling each other up over their clothing. His stomach was barely starting to round. In the peaceful quiet of his home with their daughters down the hall, Peter almost told him. If he knew the child inside of him was Chris’s, he would have, but at the last moment, he pulled it back. 

He wanted Chris to have the glow of this before he told him what he wouldn’t be able to hide for much longer.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter laid on the exam table, his feet in the metal stirrups while Deaton’s bald head was barely visible between his legs. His finger moved inside of him in the least sexual way Peter could imagine.

“How far along do you think you are?” Deaton asked.

“Two, maybe three weeks.”

Deaton scooted away on his rolling stool, took off his gloves, and threw them in the trash. THen he stood up and felt up Peter’s chest then stomach through the open front hospital gown.

“Any sickness? Fainting, trouble sleeping, vomiting?”

“Not yet.”

Deaton closed Peter’s robe before collapsing the stirrups and helping Peter sit up.

“Well the good news is, you’re progressing at a normal rate. All your vitals and tests are sound. And they point you to being just over six weeks along.”

Peter stared at him for a moment, then took out his phone to look at his calendar. Six weeks ago, Malia had just started school.

“Does that help with the paternity question?” Deaton asked.

“No,” Peter frowned at his phone. “But then again, I didn’t really expect it to.”

“We’ll have to wait at least 3 more weeks. I want to make sure the baby is developed enough before giving an answer.”

“Do you have a guess?”

Deaton smiled. “Maybe, but I’m not telling you a guess.”

Peter growled. Deaton squeezed his knee as he stood up.

“The good news is that you’re growing a healthy little werewolf. I hope whoever the second father is can at least be pleased with that.”

“Both of them would be. That’s the problem.”

Deaton laughed. Peter wondered if they learned that laugh in medical school. Practiced between warm and formal.

“As far as problems go, that doesn’t seem like the worst one in the world to have.”

“I suppose,” Peter said.

“My nurse will give you the prescription for your vitamins. Your blood pressure got higher than I would’ve liked with Malia toward the end of your pregnancy, so we’ll need to keep an eye on that. As always, your pregnancy will be considered high risk, so I’ll see you in two more weeks. Go ahead and schedule the next three appointments with my receptionist.”

“Okay. Thank you, Deaton.”

“Of course,” Deaton said. “Congratulations, Peter,” he said, shaking his hand with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” Peter said, before Deaton left the room and started to dress himself.

When he looked at his phone, after pulling on his jeans that were starting to get too tight in the waist area. He was six weeks along, no wonder. At the rate that werewolves grew, it would only be a handful of weeks before he was in jeans with spandex waists.

He had one text message from Talia and one from Stiles, both who knew he had the appointment. He had one more from Chris, asking if he was free on Friday to go to dinner. He wrote back to Talia.

_Healthy six week old fetus._

Talia’s reply came before he could even put his phone in his pocket.

_Six weeks?! :D I’m calling the contractor right now. We have to get the addition started on your house. <3 <3 <3_

Peter smiled, but didn’t respond as he left the examination room. A nurse gave him multiple prescriptions and the receptionist made his appointments. As Peter put the dates in his phone, he smiled slightly. Three weeks didn’t seem like that much sooner. In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t much sooner than he had thought, but still. He was three weeks closer to having his pup. It was both nerve-wracking and exhilarating.

 

Peter had barely made it to the car when his phone rang. He answered it as he pulled onto the street outside of Deaton’s small office.

“Hello, Stiles,” he said.

“How did it go?” Stiles asked.

“Fine. I’m six weeks along.”

“Really? That far? Awesome.”

Peter smiled slightly. “It’s exciting.”

“Could he tell how it was?”

“It’s a healthy little were pup.”

“That’s great,” Stiles said, like he had actually be worried that the pup would be anything else than healthy. “He can’t tell who the dad is yet, huh?”

“No. He said three more weeks.”

“That’s not that long.”

“It’ll be here before we know it,” Peter said. “Talia is calling the contractor to come rework the layout of the house. Hopefully they can get it all finished before the baby gets here.”

“You still have seven months-. Fuck, no you don’t.”

“No, I have closer to four,” Peter said.

“I forgot,” Stiles said, he sounded dumbstruck. “Oh my God. You’re going to have it in no time.”

Peter laughed slightly. “It will be fine, Stiles. Take a breath.”

“I’m just used to humans. I wasn’t even thinking about werewolf gestation. I was-. Holy shit.”

“There are still months to get ready. It’s okay,” he said calmly. He didn’t add that they didn’t even know if this pup would even be a fraction of Stiles’s problem from a genetic standpoint. “If you want, this weekend you can come over and we can go over one of my baby books from having Malia?”

“Yeah. Friday?”

“I think I may have plans Friday. Saturday?”

“Cool. Yeah. That would help. I have no idea what’s happening,” Stiles said with a little laugh.

“I didn’t know either until Malia.”

“I can do this, just, it’s weird.”

“I know it is,” Peter said.

“Don’t think I don’t want to do this, because-”

“I know,” Peter cut him off gently. “It’s scary. I understand.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, laughing slightly. “Yeah, it’s kinda scary.”

“You’ll feel better after Saturday.”

“Okay. I’ll see you then. Let me know if you need anything before then. Anything.”

Peter smiled slightly. “I will.”

“Be careful. Take your vitamins. Just, like, love it extra or something.”

Peter laughed. A warmth swelling in his chest. Nerves should not be so endearing, but they were. Stiles was scared, he didn’t even know if he was the father and he still cared.

“I will love it extra,” Peter said.

“Cool. See you Saturday.”

“See you then,” Peter said before hanging up.

The faint smile stayed on his face for at least a mile before he started to think of the house, the redesigning, and when he should tell Malia that he was pregnant. There were too many factors to contend with, leaving out the fact that knowing that he was six weeks pregnant, he had to tell Chris. His time was up.

 

Peter had not been on a true date in 7 years.

That wasn’t surprising. He had Malia, his pack, and work. Between all of those things, he would have to make to find time for another person.

The thing with Stiles wouldn’t have started if it hadn’t been for Stiles, leveraging his way into Peter’s life, like a butter knife gently prying at a half-opened tin can. He made time for himself.  
They never went on a true date either, but in both of their defenses, Stiles had been a brand new werewolf, overridden by his baser instincts and Peter hadn’t been laid in ages. The time they spent together was generally in Peter’s bed after Malia went to sleep.

They did what people did on dates, they drank, they ate, normally take out from bad places that were open far too late, they talked, and watched movies. They laughed. Often. All in the confines of Peter’s bedroom or sometimes in the living room.

It was nothing like the date that Chris took him on.

They had gone on lunches, Chris had stayed over for dinner with the girls a few times, but for the first time, Peter was going on a date with him, after dark, to a restaurant. He tried on a few different clothes, trying to find something that would hide the small bulge where his baby was growing.

In the end, even though it was only November, he wore a light jacket. When he came out of his bedroom, Talia, who had volunteered to watch Malia, Allison, and their puppies motioned for him to turn while Malia watched one of her cartoons on the living room floor, her dog beside her.

“The jacket is a nice touch,” Talia said.

“Slimming?”

“I can’t see a thing.”

“Good,” Peter said.

Talia smiled slightly. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you,” he said.

He watched TV with Malia and Talia for less than ten minutes before he heard Chris’s 4Runner in the driveway. He heard the doors opening and closing. Malia must have been focused on her show, because she didn’t hear anything until Allison knocked on the door.

Then she shot to the door.

“Hi,” she said, to Allison, then as an afterthought, looking up at Chris. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Chris said, ruffling her hair.

Malia growled, the same tone as her pup when she played with him.

Over the last few weeks since she found out Chris was her father, she had warmed to him. Apparently a title was all she needed for her to absorb him into her large family circle. It made Peter wary and happy all at the same time as he thought of what he had to tell Chris.

“Hey,” Chris said, looking at Talia and Peter.

“Hello,” Talia said. “Don’t you look nice.”

“Thank you,” he said.

He did look nice. He was wearing the dark jeans that Peter liked most on him. The suit jacket unbuttoned over a soft-looking t-shirt beneath made him want to touch. Peter suddenly felt like he was in high school as he got off the couch and went toward Chris.

“Call if you need anything,” Peter said.

“I think I can handle two little girls for a few hours,” she said, “No drinking and have him back by nine, Christopher.”

Chris laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You guys have fun. We’re going to make cookies, aren’t we, girls?” she asked.

“Yes,” Malia said loudly, climbing on Talia’s lap. “Alli, Aunt Talia makes the best cookies in the world.”

“It’s true. I really do,” Talia said.

Peter laughed slightly as he gently pushed Chris back out of the front door.

“Have fun. Love you guys,” he said.

“Love you,” multiple voices called back as he stepped out on the porch and pulled the door closed.

“Hopefully they’ll be crashed from the sugar rush when we get back,” Chris said.

“Oh, I never come home before then,” Peter said.

Chris laughed before he pulled Peter’s door open to the 4Runner. Peter tugged at his jacket as he sat in the passenger seat.

“Thank you,” he said.

Chris just smiled slightly before closing the door after him then going around the hood to get on his own side.

“Did you have a preference on where we go?” Chris asked.

“To eat?”

“I thought we could get drinks before?”

“I can’t drink. I need my voice for tomorrow,” Peter said.

“Oh, sure,” Chris said. “I made reservations at Sigmunds if that sounds okay?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

The scent of Chris’s contentment was so easy to stir. It was so unlike the younger version of him. So much of his allure had come from the way his scent shifted. Now, so much of the pull was the steadiness. The only time Peter smelled anything different on him was when it came to Allison and the divorce. It Allison was upset about Victoria, or even mentioned her, the warm scent of Chris’s general content, like the contentment of a moth that had been released from a bell jar, would go stale, like dust knocked from his wings.

The restaurant was more than fifteen minutes away. Peter stared out of the windows for most of it as the radio played between them. Five minutes into the drive, Chris took his hand on the console and Peter let him.

The lower region of his stomach palpated.

He squeezed his hand.

 

When they arrived at the restaurant, Chris had reserved the best table, in the back of the building. It was even lit by a candle with the lights on the walls turned down low and soft. The table was uncovered, but the linen wrapped around the silverware was softer than some of the sheets Peter owned.

“This is beautiful,” he said.

“It is,” Chris said, looking around. “I’m glad. I just read reviews online.”

“I hadn’t been yet. It’s fairly new. It used to be-”

“Ajax’s?”

“It was actually two more places since Ajax’s,” Peter said, referring to the restaurant that had been there when Chris still lived there before.

“Maybe this one will stick,” Chris said.

“Hopefully,” Peter said, as the waitress came over.

Chris began to order wine, before he stopped, and looked at Peter.

“Did you want to drink at all tonight?”

“No, I’ll take the tea,” he said to the waiter. “Thank you.”

“I’ll do the same,” Chris said.

“You can drink.”

“I don’t need to be buzzed to have fun with you,” Chris said, taking his hand across the table as he looked at the menu.

“Oh you are cheesy.”

“Maybe just rusty.”

“Maybe,” Peter said, smiling faintly. “How is work?”

They talked about Chris’s work and they talked about Peter’s work. He was doing an audiobook for an author he particularly enjoyed, so his work was wonderful. Chris was dealing with newer hunters, so he said his work was terrible. Peter could tell by the way he spoke that he may say it, but he liked to finally be the man that people came to for advice.

“What are you getting?” Chris asked.

“I’m not sure,” Peter said.

“Oysters for appetizers?”

“I’m off of seafood for now. I got a bad case of them a few months ago. They still don’t sit well with me,” Peter said.

“We’ll pick something else,” Chris said.

They went from talking about the menu to travel. Despite having Malia, Peter had traveled. The pack made it a priority to leave the country at least once a year. He had been to Spain three times since Chris left, France five times, and Italy twice. Chris had been to Russia, China, and Japan. He had been to places that Peter wanted to go, but he wouldn’t take Malia due to their strict regulations of werewolves.

Chris had worked on his speaking voice. The way he talked about the places he visited was low and sweet. He could do his own voice-over work. If he wanted, he could travel the world and speak to all different types of supernaturals. If there had ever been a face, voice, and personality to mend fences between supernaturals, hunters, and humans, it was his. Maybe one day, if she wanted, it could be Malia.

Even without drinks, they stayed in the restaurant far longer than Peter ever had with anyone, but Talia. They ordered dessert after their entrees. Chris laughed often and it was a sweet noise that rang a sweet spot in the back of Peter’s memory. He had laughed so much less when they were young.

As they shared their desserts and Chris talked about a chocolate cake he liked to make, Peter watched the way he talked more than he listened to his words. The soft lighting, the scent of his ease, and age had performed some kind of magic on Chris. Somehow he was the boy he had loved and a man, who was everything that boy had lacked.

“Do I remind you of the person I used to be?” Peter asked.

Chris looked up with a faint smile, like Peter was amusing him. “Less than I expected.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Chris laughed slightly, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “No,” he said again quieter. “I still loved you, but it was different. I loved the memory of who you were. Now, you’ve just knocked the ground out from under me. You’ve become an amazing person.”

“So have you,” he said.

“I do love you,” Chris said, looking across the table at him. “I know it hasn’t been very long-”

“I love you too,” Peter said. “I probably never stopped, but like you said, getting to know you again, you are such an evolution.”

Chris laughed, a short, but real laugh. “I feel just as lost as I was then.”

“You aren’t alone,” Peter said, laughing slightly.

It was a lie. They both said it and they both knew it. Seven years ago, neither of them would’ve admitted to feeling lost. When Chris held his hand again, Peter brought it to his lips across the narrow table and kissed his fingers, inhaling his scent.

The knots in his stomach melded with the food he had eaten for a few moments. What he was going to tell Chris could break this fragile thing they had open. Peter kissed his fingers again before letting go.

 

By the time they went back to Peter’s house, Peter’s unease was growing by the second. Thoughts chased after themselves in his mind. He could put off telling Chris for at least another week. At the rapid growth of werewolf pups, he didn’t have long, but he had more time. Especially with it getting cold, he could layer.

“Are you okay?” Chris asked as he pulled up in front of the house and killed the SUV.

“I’m just tired,” he said, kissing Chris before getting out.

They walked up the porch steps together with the cool air pressing against them. Winter would set in soon. The thought of waiting to tell Chris came on again like a compulsion. No one would question him wearing sweaters.

Before anything could be said, Talia slipped out of his front door and onto the porch with them.

“The girls went to sleep about two hours ago. The dogs may need to go out before you call it a night,” she said.

“Thank you for watching them,” Peter said.

“They don’t make it hard. They entertain themselves.”

“Thank you anyway,” Chris said.

“Any time,” Talia said as she walked down the steps of the porch and across the dooryard to the main house.

“We should let the dogs out before they wake up the girls,” Peter said, going inside.

As soon as they walked in, Peter could hear the crates creaking and the faint whimpers. Peter went to Malia’s puppy’s crate and opened it. Petting him until he would follow him to the door. Chris did the same with Allison’s puppy. Chris made both of them sit before he opened the front door and let them run out.

“They learn quickly,” Peter said, watching them run across the dark yard.

“They’re smart pups.”

Peter nodded, then rolled his lips between his teeth as he stared at them moving across the dark grass.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

“You’re sleeping with the kid that gave Malia the Jeep?”

Peter looked up to Chris, who just watched him. He didn’t seem angry. He didn’t smell angry.

“I can’t expect you to change your entire life as soon as I come back. I don’t get to expect anything at all.”

Peter turned around and leaned against the railing. His heart felt bruised in his chest, but he didn’t know why.

“I have still been seeing him, but that isn’t what I need to say,” he said. “I’m pregnant. I don’t know if it’s yours or his. It’s still too early, but I am pregnant. I had my first appointment with Deaton Monday.”

Chris stared at him, his mouth parting slightly. He heard the pause in his pulse, then the rapid acceleration of it before Chris swallowed and his nerves seemed to even.

“How far along?”

“Deaton thinks five to six week,” Peter said. “If that changes what you want for the two of us, I understand.”

“Why would it?”

“There’s a very good chance this baby isn’t yours.”

“I don’t care.”

Peter listened for another hitch of Chris’s heartbeat, but it didn’t come. There was nothing in his breathing, scent, or pulse to give away a lie if there was one.

“Are you dating him?” Chris asked.

“I’ve been sleeping with him for three years. I didn’t think I felt much beyond pack affection for him before you came back, but now I don’t know. It could be either of yours and I’m not going to be disappointed either way,” Peter said. “I know he’s young, but he has been so good to Malia and I.”

“How old is he?”

“He’ll be twenty-five in two weeks.”

“You had already had a baby for years by then.”

“It feels different.”

Chris was silent for a moment before he looked back at Peter. “I would love for it to be mine, but if it isn’t, it isn’t. I still want you.”

“You would have to love the pup.”

“Like you have to love Allison? Or how he loves Malia?” Chris asked. “I can’t point fingers.”

Peter swallowed hard with a sudden tingling in his eyes that he willed down. Chris took his hand and squeezed it.

“I missed the first one. I’m not missing the second if you’ll let me be here,” Chris said. His eyes were so earnest. They looked so much like Malia’s, even the expression of pure honesty that he so rarely saw on her small face.

Peter squeezed Chris’s hand. “Please don’t get your hopes up that it’s yours.”

“I’ll assume it isn’t, so if it is I’m happily surprised,” he said, smiling small.

“You aren’t angry?”

Chris was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “Jealous? Maybe. Hurt? Some, but like I said, those are just my feelings. They aren’t justified. I know that.”

Then he stepped closer and Peter let him although he felt his eyes shift as Chris looked down at his torso. He moved the jacket back and put his hand on the slight swell of Peter’s stomach. Peter exhaled slowly, squeezing his bicep. He had wanted that feeling so badly with Malia. Just a Chris’s hand against him.

“He’s a handsome kid,” Chris said, looking at Peter’s stomach. “Anyway you cross it, it’s going to be a beautiful baby.”

“Is that all you care about?”

“With the two in there?” Chris asked, tilting his head toward the house with the smallest of arrogant smiles. “It has to match. With you as one of the fathers, there’s no way it won’t.”

Peter was embarrassed by the swell of pride he felt. But it was there and it was strong before he heard Chris’s quiet growl, almost the same as Stiles had done as he cupped Peter’s cheek and kissed him softly.

“You’re barely into this and you’re already so beautiful,” Chris said.

“You didn’t even know tonight, you liar.”

“I knew there was something going on,” then Chris kissed him again. “God, Peter, I hope it’s mine. I hope we get to have that together,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “Either way I want to be there, every step, for anything you need, but I’ll be beside myself if it was mine.”

Peter squeezed Chris’s arms, his forehead pressed to his, breathing the same air.

“I just want my children to have good fathers,” Peter whispered, afraid of hurting Chris’s feelings, but needing it said. “Don’t say you’ll be here for me if you don’t plan to if its Stiles’s baby, because I know he’ll still be here, even if its yours. He already has been.”

“I know,” Chris said. “I swear.”

Peter kissed Chris again, deeper and slower.

When they pulled away, they called the dogs in and put them in their kennels. Peter thought of sending Chris home, but he felt raw in his own skin. The way he only remembered feeling when he was pregnant. Instead, he pulled Chris into his own room.

They didn’t have sex, but they stripped to their underwear and t-shirts. Chris held him from behind, his large hand resting on Peter’s taut stomach.


	8. Chapter 8

Saturday, Peter’s phone dinged with a message from Stiles as he was drinking his coffee. Chris was wearing the clothes he had worn the night before, standing in the kitchen with him.

_Dad needs my help with some stuff tonight. Can we look at that book Monday?_

_Of course_ , Peter responded before putting his phone down.

Chris glanced at the phone, but continued measuring out the flour for pancakes.

“You know, you could just use the box mix. They never know the difference,” Peter said.

“They aren’t the only ones eating them,” Chris said. Then he looked around the kitchen that was small, but efficient. “Are the contractors going to touch any of this?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to have my bedroom and studio moved into the addition, give Malia my bedroom, since it has its own bathroom. Talia wants me to add another bedroom on the other side, so it can be a shared bathroom, but I don’t know. It would be easier to move, but I’m not willing to leave the pack land.”

“I understand that. They’re a good support system.”

“They’ve been invaluable,” Peter said, sipping his coffee. He would like to make the house bigger in general, but the contractor seemed to think he would be able to make the home work for them. If nothing else he could add a second living room when Malia got older as a place for her and Allison to watch TV. The unspoken problem of not knowing if Allison would one day be living there heightened the pressure Peter felt on his skull.

He would add the second bedroom off his current master bathroom and have it be a shared bathroom. It made sense. If nothing else, there would be a bedroom in case he ever decided to have another baby. Malia’s current bedroom would become the baby’s room.

“How long will it take?” Chris asked.

“Four weeks.”

“That’s a big project for four weeks.”

“If anyone is capable of making sure its done, it would be Talia,” Peter said.

“True,” Chris said.

“Apparently I’m only allowed to pick finishings. Derek is overseeing the construction.”

“Derek?”

“He’s an architect.”

“I didn’t know that,” Chris said.

“He graduated less than two years ago. He’s trying to fill out his portfolio,” Peter said.

“It’s a good project for him. Tom did such a good job on this house,” Chris, looking around at the home that Peter loved.

“He did,” Peter said.

“Do you have furniture for the baby?”

“No. I gave most of it to one of our cousins when she had her child,” Peter said. “I would want to redecorate for the new pup, anyway.”

“Did you get strong nesting instincts with Malia?”

Peter laughed. It sounded more like a bark. “You have no idea. I spent so many weeks trying to make her room perfect and then I ended up keeping her in bed with me most of her first three years anyway.”

Chris smiled softly. “Do you think you’ll co-sleep that long with this one?”

“Probably not. I’ve learned a lot from her. I do still love it when she gets in bed with me, though,” Peter admitted. “Maybe it’s the wolf or maybe it’s just being a father, but I love being able to keep her close sometimes. I know it won’t be like that forever.”

“No, it won’t. I like Allison crawling into bed with me a lot more than the books say I should.”

“What are you supposed to do?” Peter asked. “Tell her no? She just wants to cuddle her dad. I think sometimes it’s hard for those books to understand how little they still are at this age.”

“Sometimes it’s even hard for me to understand it. She acts so much more mature than I think a six year old should. Then she does something like needing to be hugged after bad dreams and I remember how small she is.”

“She’s just a pup,” Peter said.

“She is,” Chris said. “Do you have plans today?”

Peter shook his head. “I did, but Stiles had to cancel.”

“Would you want to go with me and the girls to puppy class?” Chris asked.

“That would be nice,” Peter said.

The scent of Chris’s contentment spiked and Peter smiled against the warm enamel of his coffee cup behind his back as he watched the still early morning sun coloring his front yard with fog still rising from the grass.

 

On Monday, Saturday, the dog class he had watched and the familial dinner they had around his kitchen table, was a distant memory and Peter was wishing for a swift death. He swallowed and winced at the stinging of his raw throat from the amount of bile he had thrown up. It was just past nine when someone knocked on the door, Peter would have rather had his skull bashed in with a rock than stand up from the couch to get it.

"Come in," he yelled.

The door handle jiggled then Stiles yelled through the door.

"I forgot my keys."

"Fuck.”

Getting up, the blood rushed from either north or south in his body, causing his vision to swim. He used the couch for support until the room didn't pulse anymore. The dog was barking. It was a pounding at the base of his skull. His barely swollen stomach felt tight and hot beneath his t-shirt.

As he pulled open the door, Stiles was waiting with a bag in his hand and two drinks in a holder. He started to say hello before the scent of stale grease brushed his sinuses. He turned around and went as quickly as he could to his bedroom, then the ensuite. He had enough time to drop to his knees before water and orange juice came out of his mouth. The medication he’d taken less than twenty minutes before floated half-digested on top of the film.

Peter exhaled, smelled the vomit and dry-heaved again and again before he flushed the toilet. When his stomach felt steady enough, he got up and rinsed his mouth with Listerine. After wiping his face, he went back into the living room. He hadn't noticed the dog had stopped barking, but everything was silent.

He went to the window and watched Stiles with Malia's dog in the front yard. The puppy was squatting to pee, its tail never stopped wagging as it stared at Stiles. As soon as it finished its business, it began chasing Stiles around the yard. Its large erect ears still flopped when it ran. It was graceless and slow, but Stiles stopped and let it catch him a few times.

Peter watched them play until the puppy's tongue was hanging from its mouth and it was chasing at a third of the speed as it had before. Then Stiles scratched him behind the ear and they came back up the stairs. Stiles peaked around the door even as the puppy ran inside.

"Do you want me to leave this food out here?" he asked.

"No, you can bring it in, just eat at the table," he said.

"I brought you a ham and cheese bagel?"

Even with just puking his insides up, that still sounded appealing.

"Leave whatever is fried outside, please."

Stiles left the door open and Peter heard him rustling through a paper bag before he came back in with just two wrapped sandwiches and the drinks. Peter sat back on the couch on his mess of covers and blankets that made his joints less sensitive.

"What are the drinks?" Peter asked.

"Yours is a smoothie the lady said was really good for pregnant people."

Peter picked it up. It wasn't from the same place as the food. It was from the nutrition bank across the street from where Stiles had most likely gotten the sandwiches.

"I had them add some things I looked up that are supposed to be really good for you. They said you wouldn't be able to taste them," Stiles said.

"Thank you. That's very sweet," Peter said, taking a sip. Like the gesture, the drink was also sweet. The coldness felt good on his raw throat. Peter closed his eyes and drank more as the empty rolling of his stomach took it in without protest.

"Is it good?"

"Yes and it taste like I can keep it down."

"I didn't realize the morning sickness was that bad."

"It hadn't been until about three days ago. I even had Talia take Malia to school this morning."

"If you need someone to take her, you know I can," Stiles said.

"I know, but Talia is just right here. It's on her way to work."

"Yeah."

"But if she can't, at least I know who to call," Peter said, smiling slightly.

Stiles smiled back, then his eyes trailed down Peter's body. He was showing through the thin worn t-shirt he was wearing. It was minor, but it was certainly there.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Go ahead."

"What?" Stiles asked, looking up, all innocent-eyed.

"You can touch it."

Stiles reached out and rubbed his hand over the taut heavy swelling of Peter's lower stomach. Then he scooted closer and nudged up Peter's shirt, feeling over the tight skin. A low growl came out of his throat.

"I feel good enough to drink a smoothie, not to be fucked. Calm down," he said, running his fingers through Stiles's hair.

"It feels good."

"It doesn't on this end. I feel like a blimp and that's only going to get worse."

Stiles leaned down and kissed the most swollen point, then inhaled against Peter's skin.

He was so new to being a werewolf. Then he was new to possibly being a father. Mix those things together and Peter didn't mind the invasion of his space. His wolf didn't even rile at Stiles being so close to his exposed body, Peter's growing pup right beneath his hands. Vulnerable. He could feel that his eyes were gold, but it was only watching, not guarding. When Stiles looked up, his eyes were amber as well.

"That's insane," he said, laughing slightly. "That could be my kid in there."

Peter ran his fingers through Stiles's hair then pulled him forward. He wasn't so far along that Stiles laying on top of him made his stomach hurt. If anything, his warmth and pressure helped the low-grade ache through his body. Peter kissed him, tasting some other kind of fruit mixture on his tongue and lips from his own smoothie, maybe mango or apples.

He may not be the father, but he was an alpha. The way he tasted, smelled, and felt beneath his hands and over his body felt safe. It twisted around some small piece of his mind that didn't feel protected and soothed it. The restlessness inside of his skin stilled, the need to make something better, to make something right, to better his situation, to solve every problem before it could affect his child halted.

There was an alpha there at that very moment and it sated his baser instincts into a low purr as Stiles kissed his lips, then his throat. As he pushed up Peter's shirt and mouthed at his sore nipples, Peter forgot about his promise to not sleep with either of them. Or less that he forgot and more that he looked it in the face and decided it didn't matter.

 

As Peter laid in the afterglow of the slow, careful, deep fuck Stiles had just given him, Stiles got up, pulling on his underwear, shorts, and t-shirt despite the cooler weather.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked, reaching out toward him and his heat.

“I’ll be right back. I got you something.”

“Okay,” Peter said.

Stiles went out of the front door and Peter heard him thump down the steps. His Jeep’s door opened and closed again before he jogged back up the stairs and came back inside. He stripped out of his clothes again before he laid beside beneath beneath the throw blankets they had mixed together.

He held out a brown sack from one of the children’s boutiques on main street. Peter smiled faintly before he pulled out the stuffed gray wolf.

“We know enough to know it’s a little wolf, right?” Stiles asked, propped on his elbow beside Peter’s head.

Peter smiled again, petting its incredibly soft plush. He would have to keep it hidden from Malia or it would be destroyed before it ever saw the nursery.

“Thank you. It’s perfect,” he said.

“I’m glad you like it,” Stiles said, petting the stuffed animal too. “I bought a werewolf puppy book while I was there, like four actually. I couldn’t wait.”

“Did it help?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, petting the soft ear of the stuffed animal. “I didn’t realize these pregnancies were so high risk for males omegas. It should’ve been common sense.”

“It isn’t common sense,” Peter said, as he smelled Stiles’s embarrassment and fear. “And yes, they’re higher risk, but remember, I’ve already had Malia. It's far from a death sentence.”

“It just sounded like it,” Stiles said.

Peter leaned up to nuzzle Stiles’s throat and inhaling the scent of his young, worried alpha.

“I’ll be just fine, Stiles,” he promised. “I have appointments with my doctor every two weeks. Toward the end, he’ll see me every week. I have a journal here to keep track of my vitals. I write in it three times a day.”

“Really?” Stiles asked.

“Yes.”

“I mean, I just, it’s scary,” Stiles said. “Don’t get me wrong, if anything-. Fuck. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Just say it. It’s okay.”

“It’s just, if anything happened to the pup, I know you would be crushed and so would I. I mean, beyond fucking devastated, but if something happened to you, I really don’t know what I would do.”

The thought of anything happening to his pup made Peter’s chest ache, but he understood. Alphas put the health of their omega before the health of the pup. It was biological. They couldn’t help it. Another pup could be made. A mate was much harder to find.

But with Stiles, it was clear that was less the case. Or maybe it was the case with most alphas and this was how it looked in the practical application of all the books Peter had read. With Malia, his alpha hadn’t been there. He had no one to comfort or no one to look after him in the intimate way that he felt with Stiles’s skin against his own beneath his mess of blankets that smelled of both of them.

Peter cupped Stiles’s cheek. “I will be fine,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Stiles said. He was too young to cover the small amount of disbelief he had.

Peter nuzzled him again. Stiles hugged him closer, their skin touching beneath the blankets. Peter held him slightly closer in the cocoon of warmth. He knew that Chris cared if he had a healthy pregnancy, but to see the care in Stiles’s face, to smell the affection and anxiety in his scent, it soothed something in Peter he wasn’t even aware was there.

He was important to Stiles, as more than a breeding mare, which of course he knew logically, but he was never fooled into thinking that a pregnancy brain was a logical thing.


	9. Chapter 9

One of the bonuses of driving a nondescript vehicle like Chris’s 4Runner was that even a cop’s son wouldn’t notice it. For two days, he curbside to the coffee shop closest to the architectural firm Derek worked at.

Stiles had a schedule. It was almost enough to call it a pattern, but the only time Chris could count on getting him alone would be when he made one of his trips to the coffee shop off 11th and Columbus.

His blue Jeep gave Chris all the reason he would ever need to never drive something of an odd color or that he wouldn’t see five of on his daily outings.

On the second day that Chris waited, from ten to eleven, the blue CJ pulled along the curb and the sheriff’s son got out with a bag across his body. Chris looked at his clock and waited fifteen minutes before getting out of his 4Runner and going inside.

 

Stiles was sitting at his normal table near the window with a small laptop. Chris ordered a black coffee from the girl behind the counter. He kept his voice low and Stiles never looked up until Chris had his coffee in his hand, warm through the thin paper cup.

“Stiles, right?” Chris asked. “Do you mind if I call you that?”

Stiles jerked. His eyes flashed. First from being startled, second from seeing him. Chris didn’t have to a wolf to track those reactions.

“Yeah that’s fine,” Stiles said, staring at him, then the door. His eyes stayed amber.

“Do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”

“I guess not.”

Chris couldn’t say that Peter had poor taste in anything. His house looked like something out of a magazine, his car looked like it belonged on a show room floor, even his bedding was better than high end hotels Chris stayed in. So it didn’t surprise him at all that the boy Peter was fucking was a knockout. Dark hair, dark eyes, and moles that made his skin look pale and younger than he was.

Chris took a sugar packet from the small container on the table and shook it before easing the lid off his coffee.

“I don’t want to take up your time, but I want to keep the air clear, since it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting rid of each other any time soon.”

Stiles snorted, glancing down at at his computer screen. “You don’t know that. If the baby is yours, I’m out.”

“I doubt it,” Chris said. “But the pup is most likely yours. You’re a wolf. He’s a wolf. Genetically, they combine easier.”

“I’m not a born wolf.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve mutated all of your cells. Sex cells too,” Chris said. “But I need you to know that I don’t care. I can’t repay you for how you’ve helped Malia and Peter while I was gone, but I have been gone. I’ve been apart from long enough to know that I never want to be again, regardless of whose baby this is.”

“So, what? You’re going to just force me out of the picture?”

“No, but I think to take stress off of Peter, and ourselves, we need to get along at the very least.”

Stiles stared at him before he nodded. “Like?”

“Like, I’d like to start getting to know you. You’re around both of my daughters. There’s a high chance that I’ll be around your pup.”

Stiles growled slightly, almost subvocal.

“And that’s exactly what I don’t want Peter to have to deal with,” Chris said.

Stiles cleared his throat. His cheeks turned red.

“I’m still kind of new. I’d be up his ass constantly right now if he’d let me.”

“He’d kill you.”

“He would. He’s a bitch.”

Chris laughed slightly. “I think he’s more independent than anything. I caused more of that than I’d like to admit.”

“No shit. I’ve been with him at least three times a week for years and he still has issues relying on me, because you fucked him over so badly. It’s bullshit.”

“I know.”

Stiles stared at him for a moment before he closed his laptop. “I’m cool with not being a dick to you in front of him, but what you did isn’t okay. Unlike you, I don’t have to go seven years without him to realize that I want to be with him.”

“I know it must seem that simple,” he said. He dealt with too many hunters, packs, covens, and others in the last decade to take the bait for an argument. “But, Stiles, I never stopped loving him.”

“Yeah, but you had a kid with someone else to erase him,” Stiles said, standing up and picking up his thin computer. “I hope the kid is mine, if for no other reason, because I want it to have a good dad,” he said. “Nice talking to you.”

Then he walked off. Chris watched him for a moment before he turned back around and sipped his coffee. If there was one thing he had learned, he couldn’t change the minds of people who didn’t want them changed. Anger was like wind. It could be strong, but as long as he was a stone, he would still be there when it died down.

Chris was nothing if not patient.

 

 

 

Peter didn’t hear Stiles knock on the front door. He was sure Stiles probably had, but he didn’t hear him until the light near the studio door lit up. He paused his recorder, took off his headphones, and went to the door.

“Yes?” he asked.

Stiles’s eyes were amber.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why are you giving him another chance?” Stiles asked. “I know for Malia, but why are _you_ giving Chris another chance?”

Peter started to say he had work that needed to be done. He did. There were only certain windows of time when the construction crews were absent. This was one of those times. But the clients he was contracted with knew what was happening in his life. If they couldn’t understand, then he would find new client.

“There’s too much there to explain, Stiles.”

“I deserve some kind of explanation,” Stiles said. “I’ve been the one here doing the work. I bend over backward for you, Peter. And then this fucking asshole comes back into your life and what? I get tossed?”

“I haven’t dismissed you at all,” Peter said, a low growl building in his throat. “I’ve also never asked you to do what you do.”

For a moment, they stared at each other. Peter knew his own eyes were the same color as Stiles’s as the hair on the back of his neck rose. The scent of anger was making Peter’s throat feel puffy. With the added hormones, his teeth had already grown to points.

Then Stiles’s closed his eyes. His chest expanded then fell before he opened them to their normal brown.

“Sorry. I’m not meaning to make you defensive,” Stiles said.

His anger was disapatting from the air, leaving hurt behind. Peter inhaled again, slowly letting his teeth dull, but his eyes wouldn’t shift back. His wolf normally loved Stiles, now it was one wrong step away reacting physically to the threat in his den.

“I’ll go,” Stiles said.

He turned back toward the front door and was nearly halfway down the hall before Peter moved forward, grabbing his arm.

“Let me show you something.”

Stiles looked back and nodded slightly before following him into Peter’s bedroom. The construction crew had started on the bedroom that would be on the other side of his bathroom, but his own room was untouched for now.

He gestured for Stiles to sit on the bed before he went to his closet. He took a wooden box with a metal piece on the lid. It was charmed to his touch. Anyone else who touched it would only see a cardboard box, holding a pair of shoes.

He sat on the bed beside Stiles and opened the lid. The scent of cedar wood was sweet as he took out the pile of pictures and pieces of paper.

“We were only together a year. Now, that seems like nothing. Then, it seemed like a very long time,” Peter said, looking at the pictures of him and Chris together. He handed one to Stiles of himself and Chris at a bar. He was mostly on Chris’s lap. Chris had his arms around his waist.

“Wow, how old are you there?”

“That was my twenty-first birthday,” he said. “I had just told my family about Chris a month before. Only Talia and Tom were there that night. The rest of them weren’t speaking to me. I had only been with him two months at that point and I already knew I was in love with him.”

Then Peter gave him three more. It was Christmas and Chris was sitting on the fireplace in Talia’s house. They were sitting together. Derek was in the background in a fuzzy green sweater with a red nose.

“That was the first time my pack allowed him into the house,” Peter said.

Peter looked at the pictures and he wouldn’t have been able to guess that Chris was a hunter. He looked comfortable there, his arm around Peter’s lower back in one picture, in another his hand was on his knee, and another time they were hugging.

“He was an Argent and he walked into a werewolf den with me without a second thought. We had only been together for four months at that time. You have to understand, I knew I was taking a risk, but so was he. He is and was the only one in his family capable of taking over after Gerard died. We could have easily been planning to kill him and end the Argent family there, but he trusted me. For a man who trusted no one, that meant so much to me.

“That was leaving out the fact that, at least now, I’m almost positive he thought his father would literally murder him if he found out. I was young enough and naive enough to relationships that all of these warning signs, I just saw them as highenting the romance. It was all forbidden, but we were in love and we were going to beat the scales tipped against us. Of course I was wrong,” Peter said, picking up one of the pictures. He could see the adoration in his own eyes as he looked at Chris in the picture. Eight years later, it still made his heart throb.

“He could have fixed it. If he had really wanted to-.”

Peter shook his head. “Stiles, he would’ve had to have killed Gerard. At twenty-two, I thought that was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask of someone, but that was just the melodrama instilled in me by bodice ripping romance stories where love prevails in all things.”

“He could’ve just told his dad off. He didn’t have to kill him.”

Peter laughed slightly. “No. Not this man. He had put too much time and energy into Chris. Chris was never a person that he loved, he was a tool for Gerard to use. He didn’t care what made Chris happy.”

Stiles looked at the pictures, flipping through them, of the moments when Peter had been happiest. Finally, he put them in the box and rubbed his hand over his face. He stared at the carpet for a few moments before he shrugged.

“I just think that if he hadn’t done what he had done, I would’ve actually had a fair shot with you. We wouldn’t be three years into this with you still keeping me at arm’s length.”

Peter slid the lid back onto the box and put it on the floor.

“I can’t say that isn’t true,” Peter said. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“I just, I really love you and I just feel like I don’t stand a chance, even though he doesn’t deserve the second chance he’s being given. He’s still going to come out on top and it isn’t fair.”

A hard pulsating pressure throbbed outward from Peter’s chest. He touched the side of Stiles’s neck until Stiles looked at him.

“Stiles, I love you,” he said softly, “But if this baby is his, I will go with him. Not because he’s won, or because I love him more, but because I don’t want this to be your life. I don’t want you raising a man’s children that aren’t yours with little possibility of me being able to carry another pup to term. You read the books. After the second, male omegas-.”

“You need to stop at two. I know,” Stiles said. “But I don’t give a shit. I don’t care at all. I love Malia so much. It’s never mattered that she isn’t mine. She’s yours and she’s fucking amazing. I would feel the same way about this kid regardless of if it's mine or not.”

“I just want you to be able to be a father, Stiles,” Peter said quietly. “Not a stepfather, but a dad. I don’t want you to have to sacrifice anything in your life. I don’t want you to settle for someone when you deserve so much more.”

“I could care less if a kid is mine by blood. Maybe before the pack, maybe I would’ve cared, but I just, I can’t imagine loving another little person more than I love her.”

Peter should tell him to go on home, but instead he pressed forward and kissed him. Stiles kissed him back like he had been touch deprived for years. Peter only made sure the door was closed before he started to strip out of his clothes. Stiles did the same in a tangle above him. Peter laughed slightly and helped him take his shirt off.

His stomach was still low enough for Stiles to be able to lay between his legs. Stiles’s hands kept moving over his chest then down to Peter’s stomach as they kissed. Peter laced their fingers together on the side of his swollen stomach as they kissed, pressed skin to skin.

If he had to lose this, he knew exactly how badly it would hurt. It would hurt like being twenty-two years old again and finding a note on his car’s windshield.


	10. Chapter 10

The next week, Peter oversaw the construction of the addition to his home and tried to stay out of it as much as he possibly could. The loud noises associated with building things was always trying on his hearing, but being pregnant, he was either more sensitive or more annoyed by the noise. It was hard to tell when he spent from roughly six in the morning trying not to vomit and that urge didn’t leave until nearly noon.

The stress was compounded by the fact that now Malia knew he was vomiting in the morning. He hadn’t told her why. She was too young of a wolf to recognize the second heartbeat inside of Peter or notice the graduate change of his scent.

The nausea and dizziness was bad enough that he began to allow Chris to bring Malia home three to four afternoons in a week. It gave him time to work the morning sickness out of his system, get some work done, and make his house reasonably clean.

Still, one evening, almost a week after going through his box of old pictures with Stiles, he walked out of his studio to Malia and Allison watching TV together. Their puppies, Neko and Nemo, were near them, chewing on a rawhide bone.

“Hi, Daddy,” Malia said, without looking up to see him come in the room.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said. “Hello, Allison.”

“Hi, Peter,” she said, her feet moving back and forth in the air as she laid on the rug beside Malia, both of their eyes transfixed on the TV.

The scent of garlic was making his stomach protest and yarn at the same time as he went into the dining room. Chris smiled when he saw him. He was standing at a cutting board. There were two pots going on the stove with steam rising toward the hood vent.

“That smells delicious,” he said.

“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind. I figured you could use a homemade meal that you didn’t have to cook,” Chris said.

“Thank you,” Peter said, as he went into the kitchen and took down a glass to fill with water for his sore throat.

“I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“I just asked you to pick up Malia earlier,” Peter said.

“That isn’t really hearing from you. That’s just knowing you aren’t dead,” Chris said.

Peter laughed slightly. “Every spare moment has either been puking up my guts, working, or taking care of her. I haven’t had time for much.”

That wasn’t entirely true. He had made time for Stiles twice in the last week, but as always, Stiles had the flexibility of a well-cooked noodle to his schedule. If he texted that he wanted him there, Stiles was there. Chris had Allison. It wasn’t that easy.

Then there was the weight in the bottom of his sternum he had been carrying since they had broken out the box of photographs.

“The morning sickness isn’t any better?”

“No.”

“I could get something for you-”

“I don’t mind. If he wants to throw a riot in there then that’s his business,” Peter said.

“He? Did you find something out?”

“No,” Peter said. “I just think it’s a boy. Next week I should know the gender.”

“That’s great.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“You need to do some shopping, furniture and things,” he said, glancing toward the living room, like he didn’t want to give away what they were talking about to the kids.

“Yes, I do.”

“I could take you one day next week or even this weekend if Talia wants to keep some kids,” Chris said.

“I can ask her,” he said. He didn’t know if it was a lie.

Chris took the carrots, celery, and onions he was chopping to one of the pans. He dumped them in with the low sizzle of a hot greased metal. He stirred them some, seasoned, and turned down the heat before leaning against the counter.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Peter said.

Chris held eye contact when Peter looked at him until Peter looked away, taking another drink of water.

Every night he had dreams that he hadn’t had in years, dreams of he and Chris from when they were younger, but the sky was always dark, the houses they were in never had light, something was always keeping him from being able to kiss Chris the way he wanted. He woke up sweaty and feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.

“Peter,” Chris said.

Peter looked back at him and Chris was focused on him.

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

“If you need help, call me.”

“I have.Cooking dinner, picking up Malia, that helps.”

“Good,” Chris said, smiling slightly as he went back to fixing dinner.

They talked about work and what the girls told Chris they had done at school on their way home until dinner was done. Then they set the table and the girls ate with them. They talked a lot about their fictional worlds. Other times they answered Chris’s direct questions.

Peter sipped his water and watched them all interacting and knew this could be his life. It would most likely be his life. His stomach was still gnawing and aching from the sickness that hadn’t stopped until three that afternoon, but he thought other than that, this could make him happy. Chris sitting at the table with their daughters, talking to them like they were twenty-one instead of six and seven.

He knew he could be happy, and still a beat after that thought, was a throbbing pain in his chest.

 

At three in the morning, Peter revisited dinner.

Even with his increased healing, his throat still felt raw and puffy from the amount of acid he had heaved up over the last twenty-four hours. The sting was enough to make his eyes water as he heaved again into the toilet off of his bedroom.

“Daddy?”

Peter held up his hand to Malia as he vomited again, then he flushed before the smell made her puke. If she did and he had to clean it up, they would never get back to bed. He wiped his face with a damp rag before he turned around to Malia standing in his bathroom doorway. Neko was laying beside her, like he had probably been asleep five minutes ago and wished he was again, but his kid was on the move, so he was too.

Peter knew the feeling.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said, wiping his face again.

“Are you sick? My teacher said people throw up when they’re sick.”

“When did she say that?” Peter asked before he swished with water from the tap.

“When I told her you were throwing up.”

Peter closed his eyes before dragging his hand down his face. Then he turned around and picked Malia up.

“I don’t smell sick, do I?” he asked.

She sniffed at him as he carried her to his bed and put her down.

“No. I want Neko to sleep up here,” she said.

“Just this time,” he said, knowing it was a lie as he put her puppy on the bed with them. Chris would say the dog should be in his kennel, but Peter didn’t particularly care.

Then Peter laid down in his usual spot. With the faint light coming in from down the hall, he could see Malia’s face clearly.

“I’m going to tell you something important,” he said.

“Okay,” Malia said, mirroring his position, head propped on her hand, braced on her elbow in the second pillow.

“You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

“Allison is already my little sister.”

“I know, so now you’re going to have two little siblings,” Peter said. “It’s right here,” he said, putting his hand on his stomach that was forming well. Most people he ran into gave it a second, knowing look, but Malia didn’t know what a swollen stomach on her dad meant.

Malia reached out like he knew she would and put her hand on his stomach. He could hear the pup’s heartbeat, along with Malia’s, the dog’s, and his own, but he doubted she could do the same.

“Put your ear right here,” he said, pressing where he could feel the baby resting inside him.

Malia laid her head against his stomach and he held as still as possible. After a second, she covered her open ear and squeezed her eyes closed then she pulled back enough to see his face.

“It’s going to be really small?”

“Yes,” he said. “Right now it’s tiny, but growing a little werewolf upsets my stomach.”

“It’s bad. It shouldn’t make you sick.”

Peter laughed slightly. “You made me sick too.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Oh yes you did,” Peter said, “But that’s okay, because I love you anyway. Just like we’re going to love this pup anyway, right?”

“Mhm,” she said, staring at his stomach. “There’s really a pup in your belly?”

Peter nodded, “And in a few months they’ll be done growing and they’ll be here with us.”

Then Malia smiled. Sometimes she gave smiles that reminded him of himself. This one was all Chris. Sweet. Honest. It showed her dimples. Peter kissed her forehead before squeezing her.

“So not sick?”

“No, just pregnant,” he said.

“Good,” Malia said.

Then she nuzzled against him, like she did less and less often outside of the full moon. Peter squeezed her close. Soon it wouldn’t just be him and her anymore. That thought was a bittersweet pill all of its own. He would miss just holding her, only having to worry about her, her being the center of his world.

He doubted she would remember this night when she was older, but he knew he would never forget it as he breathed in the scent of his tiny pack in his original bedroom in the quiet months before their lives would change forever.

 

On Friday, Peter laid on another table in Deaton’s clinic. In the dim room, Deaton ran a wand over Peter’s stomach. Talia sat beside him, staring at the screen where the small heart of his pup beat and they could see it moving inside of him.

“Well I can tell you the gender,” Deaton said. “Do you want to know?”

“Yes,” Peter said.

“It’s a boy,” Deaton said, clicking something on the wand to take a still shot. “That should be a nice mix for you.”

Talia squeezed his hand. “Oh my God. That’s what you wanted.”

“It is,” Peter said, smiling slightly, but it felt less monumental. He had already known it was a boy in a gut deep way. “When will the paternity test be back?” he asked.

“My nurse has the urine right now,” Deaton said, still looking at the screen. “Well he’s a healthy, active little wolf. Have you felt much movement?”

“Some.”

“You’re about to feel it all the time. He’s busy.”

Peter laughed slightly, looking at the screen.

Then there was a soft knock and the door came open. Peter felt his pulse increase as Deaton’s nurse came in. She was holding a closed container of what he assumed was the urine sample he gave when he came in for the appointment. He didn’t know what kind of magic Deaton used on it, but it was a different color, darker.

Deaton held the cup up to the window, where light was being filtered through the blinds. When the sun hit the liquid it was a dark red. Deaton gave the cup back to his nurse. He put the wand down and wiped off Peter’s stomach as the nurse left.

“Could you tell?”

“The paternity is only between a bitten pack member and a human?” Deaton asked.

“Yes,” Peter said.

“This pup is one-hundred percent werewolf.”

Peter looked at Talia, who went from staring at Deaton slack-jawed to him. Then her hand was back on his.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Peter swallowed then nodded. He felt dizzy.

It was how he would’ve felt if Deaton had told him the pup was a girl. He had been so certain, positive, that it was Chris’s. He had no reason for thinking it, but it had felt certain, even he was uncertain about how that left him feeling.

“I hope this is good news,” Deaton said, as he stood up. “Everything else is wonderful. The pup is in very good health and so are you. I’ll see you at your next appointment.”

“Thank you,” Peter said as Deaton left the room.

When the door closed, Peter sat in the bed for a moment longer before dragging his hand over his face. In the last few days, the morning sickness had slowed down. Now his stomach was bubbling again.

“Are you okay?” Talia asked again.

Peter nodded. “I trust him more than Chris. I just-. I thought it was going to be Chris’s. I really did.”

“So did I,” Talia said. “This might not be the easiest way, but Stiles will be a great father.”

“I know he will be,” Peter said, smiling slightly. “He’s going to be happy.”

Talia smiled slightly, squeezing his hand. “I hope you’re happy.”

“I am,” he said, actually meaning it as he squeezed her hand back.

 

At five that evening, Peter dropped Malia off at Talia’s house and drove into Beacon Hills. He fought to keep his pulse even as he drew closer to Stiles’s small house near where the sheriff lived. Peter parked in the driveway beside Stiles’s Jeep.

It was cold enough that even he wore a jacket as he got out and went up the concrete steps. When he knocked, he heard voices then there were footsteps before Stiles opened the door. As soon as he saw him, he started to smile then it died.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Peter said. “Is someone here?”

“Just Dad,” Stiles said. “It’s not mine, is it?” his face crumbling further.

“No, yes,” Peter said. “I mean, yes. You’re the father.”

“What?” Stiles asked, his face splitting into a smile as he grabbed Peter in a tight hug. “Oh my God.”

“It’s a boy.”

“No way,” Stiles said, then squeezed him tighter.

Peter felt the slightest movements inside of him. Then there were footsteps farther into the house and Peter pulled away slightly to see John, who was looking at them, with a crease between his brows.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Peter looked at Stiles and Stiles looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment before he turned around and pulled Peter inside closing out the cool.

“Um, so, yeah,” Stiles said. “You’re going to be a grandpa in like three months?”

Peter expected questions, but John’s face smoothed completely before he smiled. That was a smile that had been passed down. He came forward and hugged Peter tightly.

“Congratulations,” John said.

“Congratulations to you,” Peter said.

John laughed as he pulled away, then looked down at Peter’s stomach. “I don’t know what to say.” Then he looked at Stiles. “You didn’t even warn me.”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Stiles said.

Then John hugged him and Stiles hugged him back. Peter saw the wetness in Stiles’s eyes then, like it took a hug from his own father to make it all real.

“It’s a boy,” Stiles said, laughing slightly even as his eyes watered.

“Really?” John asked.

Peter nodded.

John hugged him again. The scent of John’s excitement was new and powerful. It smelled like Stiles’s, a mixture of citrus and hay. He just smelled aged, like fine whiskey.

“If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” John said.

“I will,” Peter said, smiling. It felt real it felt genuine.

In the hallway of Stiles’s small house, Peter smelled true affection, true excitement, and joy. He inhaled it deeply and felt the life growing inside of him moving.

 

Early Saturday, Peter heard the faint buzz of his phone on the bedside table. He had to have been in the thinnest parts of sleep to even hear it. There was one text from Chris sent a few moments before.

_I don’t want to wake Malia. Can you come outside?_

Peter frowned at it before he rubbed the sleep from his face and pushed himself out of bed. He put on his sleep pants from the evening before and a t-shirt. As he walked through the house, the faint light of sunrise was barely creeping through the windows.

He opened the front door to Chris sitting in one of the chairs on the porch. He looked up from his phone when he heard the door and put his phone down.

“I’m sorry it’s so early-”

“It’s fine,” Peter said, coming outside and closing the door.

The chill of early morning made the hair on his arms stand. It was bracing. It made him want to be on four paws and in the middle of the woods. Instead, he leaned against the railing with the width of the porch between he and Chris.

The rocker Chris sat in creaked as he stood.

He knew Malia’s eyes were the same shade as Chris’s. They had sat side by side enough times now that he knew it for certain, but his seemed much bluer in the early light, the paleness of his face, and the gray of his hair.

“Why haven’t I heard from you?” Chris asked. “After dinner last week, I thought we were on the same page, then… I don’t know. Something changed.”

“The pup is Stiles’s. I found out yesterday,” Peter said.

For a moment, Chris looked hurt, but it disappeared quickly.

“I expected that,” he said, “But it doesn’t explain the rest of the week.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation for anything I do.”

“Peter.”

“Chris.”

He knew his eyes were yellow. He could see the vapor of Chris’s breath so clearly.

“I love you. I don’t care if I’m the father. I told you that and I meant it.”

There were so many things stopping up Peter’s throat like a dam. Things that made no logical sense, but his mind kept snagging on them. Every time Chris dropped Malia off or texted and asked how he was doing through the week, it was the things that kept him from responding, from being normal.

“I’m still angry.”

Then Chris did look hurt and it didn’t leave his features.

“I know you’re trying, but I don’t know if what has been done can be rectified,” Peter said.

“Peter-”

“I don’t think you have any idea how much I loved you,” Peter said, his eyes stinging. He wanted to blame the hormones, but the days of terrible sleep hadn’t helped. “I went through some of my old things with you in them, and-” he shook his head. “I just wish you had killed him.”

“So do I,” Chris said. “Do you want me to step back?”

Peter stared at him and felt his chest throb. He didn’t know what biologic feature caused that kind of pain, but whatever it was shouldn’t be so tied to his emotions.

“That’s all I trust you to do,” Peter said.

Chris’s jaw flexed as he swallowed. “That isn’t fair, Peter.”

“None of this is fair,” Peter said, his eyes suddenly burning as the root of where Chris was buried in his chest caught. “Not that you came back after seven years, that you expected me to fall for you over again, it isn’t fair that I hold it against you for not killing Gerard, but I do.”

“So do I,” Chris said, his eyes watering too. “Is this the repercussion of that? Do I not get to be with you?”

“I don’t know how.”

“But do you want to make it work?” Chris asked. When Peter didn’t speak, Chris touched his face. “I have tried. I’ve tried so much. I won’t stop trying, Peter. I don’t care that the baby is his.”

“I love him too and I trust him.”

“I can earn your trust again if you’ll just let me try.”

“I can’t expect him to accept this.”

“Leave both of us out of it,” Chris said. “You’ve done this long enough on your own that you deserve what you want. What do you want?”

Peter stared at him and his chest continued to throb with his pulse. It had been nearly a decade and he was still in love with Chris. He held that fact against himself, against his logic, and his pride.

“I want to not have to chose,” Peter said quietly. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“I just want to know if you still want me. That’s all I need,” Chris said.

“I always will.”

Chris put his other hand on Peter’s check and kissed him. Peter kissed him back slowly, both of their lips cold in the early morning. His anxiety was like lemon rind between them. When they pulled away, Peter could still feel his breath on his face.

“That isn’t a decision,” Peter said. “I won’t promise that I’ll ever make one.”

“I won’t ask you to.”

Peter clenched his fingers in the back of Chris’s short hair and kissed him again. It was selfish and childish, but there was no winning. He had resigned himself to it. Either way he would be without one of his children’s fathers, possibly both of them.

He would have no one to blame in the end, but himself.

As he kissed Chris, he let it take his mind. He had asked no questions, so he wouldn’t look for answers. A solution would work out. If age had taught him nothing, it was that. Whether he would be left better or worse, only time would tell.


	11. Chapter 11

At seven thirty on Wednesday morning, there was a knock on Peter’s front door. Malia was still eating cereal at the bar as Peter went toward the door. 

“Hurry, Malia,” he said. 

“I am,” Malia said, as she tried to get a spoonful of milk in her mouth while watching the tablet. 

Peter grabbed the tablet from her as he passed, going toward the front door. He tuned out her whining as he pulled the door open to Chris and Allison. 

“I’m sorry. She’s still eating,” Peter said. 

“Daddy, I was watching that!” Malia yelled. 

“Malia, eat,” he said louder. “It’s one thing if you’re late. You can’t make Allison late too.” 

“She’s okay,” Chris said. 

Peter glared at Chris, who held up his hands slightly. 

“Daddy, I need to use the bathroom,” Allison said. 

“Go ahead,” Chris said. 

Allison walked down the hall toward the bathroom in Peter’s bedroom, which was the only functional one in his house. His studio was gutted. Most of his equipment was in storage until next week, but then the builders should be done. 

Peter looked at his watch again. The workers would be there in less than twenty minutes. School started in less than forty. His head was pounding. His feet hurt. He had slept maybe two hours with the pounding beginning in his lower back. 

Then his watch began to blink. The second reminder to take his medications. He cussed under his breath and went into the kitchen to take his pills. At least Malia was silently pouting. He would take that over the ear-piercing whining. As he filled a small glass with water and swallowed down a small handful of pills, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He could smell the soured scent of Malia’s pouting, his own irritation, and beneath that, the warmer, smoother scent of Chris’s concern. 

When he put the glass in the sink, he turned to Malia across the island. 

“I’ll have your show at the same place for you when you get home,” Peter said, leaning on his elbows at her eye level, “But you know we don’t watch TV when we’re eating breakfast.” 

Malia stared down at her bowl of cereal, looking more upset than annoyed. The full moon was close. That tweaked both of them. Peter went around the island and hugged her in her chair. Then he kissed her head. 

“Are you done eating?” 

“Yeah,” Malia said. 

“Okay,” he said, taking her bowl and rinsing it. 

Chris and Malia talked then. His voice seemed completely unaffected by the near temper tantrum. He had witnessed the first full blown Malia meltdown the week before and he had handled that well too. Peter glanced at him talking to Malia. He was asking her what colors she wanted in her new bedroom. It was like a light switch. Malia went from pouting to animated in a heartbeat. 

“Malia, go get your backpack,” Peter said. 

Chris picked her up off the bar stool, although she didn’t need it and set her on the ground before she shot off toward her bedroom. 

“Why don’t you come with me today?” Chris asked. “I thought, if you wanted to, we could go pick out some things you need for the nursery.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know,” Chris said, “But I’d like to. I understand if you want Stiles to-.” 

“We can do that,” Peter said. “I have to get out of this house. The sound of the,” he gesturing to everything at the back of the house that couldn’t be seen. “It’s driving me insane. I can’t sleep. I can’t work. I can’t breathe. My sinuses feel like they’re packed with dust.” 

“There’s a lot going on,” Chris said. 

Peter nodded slightly as Malia came back down the hall with her backpack. 

“I’ll be ready when you get back?” Peter asked. 

“That’s perfect,” Chris said with a small smile. 

“Ew, don’t smell like that,” Malia said, as she shrugged on her backpack. 

“One day I’ll be saying the same thing to you,” Peter said, picking Malia up despite his protesting lower back. He kissed her loudly on the cheek and brushed her long blond hair back from her face. “I love you. Have a good day.” 

“I love you too,” Malia said, hugging him around her neck. 

He squeezed her. He would give her one thing, she felt her emotions in waves, sudden and sharp, but the bad ones dissipated quickly, leaving the mostly sweet girl that melted his heart. When he put her down, he hugged Allison too. 

“Have a good day,” he said. 

“You too,” she said, squeezing his neck like Malia had. 

Even her affection smelled like Chris’s. It had slowly started to leak into her interactions with him. Like a mouse learning to trust a cat. 

When he stood, Chris kissed his cheek then he and the girls left through the front door. Peter drank his coffee as he listened to the 4Runner leave the driveway. Then he went to his bathroom and took a shower, letting the hot water soothe his muscles. As soon as he turned off the water, he could hear the pounding of hammers. 

He tried to ignore it as he tried to make the gaunt zombie-looking man in the mirror look like his normal self. Most of his werewolf metabolic skill was going to the fetus inside of him. It meant the dark places beneath his eyes were staying. He did what he could before giving up and getting dressed. 

When he came out of his bedroom, Chris was sitting on the couch, watching TV. 

“Are you ready?” Chris asked. 

“Yes, get me out of this house before I kill a construction worker,” he said. 

As they walked outside, the first hints of winter was on the breeze. It made his skin pebble. His wolf that was close to the surface from the pregnancy and the nearness of the full moon, inhaled deeply. Winter was its favorite season. The crackle of dead leaves beneath its paws, the faint chill that reached beneath its fur and touched his skin when he was on four legs. 

Peter didn’t realize he swayed until Chris’s almost hot hand was on his arm. 

“Are you okay?” Chris asked. 

“Yeah,” Peter said before shaking his head slightly. “The extra weight throws me off sometimes.” 

Chris helped him into the Toyota before he got in on the other side. Led Zeppelin was playing quietly from the speakers. 

“Where do you want to go?” Chris asked. 

“Troylers.” 

“Is it still in the same place?” 

“Yes.” 

Chris nodded. 

Peter smiled slightly as he looked out of the window. Chris and Stiles both had their good and bad, but that was one thing he liked about Chris. He never shamed him for liking the more expensive things. He never called him a snob, when it was one of Stiles’s favorite insults. 

“Can we get breakfast first?” 

“Of course,” Chris said. “You pick.” 

They ate at a place that Stiles would’ve ribbed him for as well. Most of the people around them looked like they worked in real estate or banking. There were a few parents who had clearly just dropped their kids off at school. It shook Peter for a moment to realize that would be the category he and Chris fell under. He ate a salad that cost more than most dinners that he and Stiles ordered in. Chris took the bill before he could and didn’t so much as twitch at the price. 

It was so simple. 

He and Stiles weren’t so different in their incomes. It was the money that ran through Peter’s family like an artery that set them apart, as much as Stiles sometimes seemed to dislike that fact. Especially since the baby was coming. He has shown Peter pictures of car seats that Peter knew would be a stretch for his budget, cribs, which only caused the crippling fear that occasionally he would be without his very young pup to the hands of Stiles, who was barely more than a pup himself. 

“Are you okay?” Chris asked. 

“I’m just tired,” Peter said, drinking his orange juice. 

“Do you want coffee?” 

“I’ve already had the cup I’m allowed at the house,” Peter said. 

“We can put off shopping,” Chris said. “I just thought you might like to get out of the house.” 

“No, you’re right. I need to shop.” 

“Okay,” Chris said, taking a bite of his own salad and chewing slowly. 

Peter was tired enough to be mildly transfixed by the movement of his jaw. 

“If you ever need a break, you know my door is open. I can watch the girls. You can sleep.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“You aren’t. I’d like to do it,” Chris said. “Take advantage of it. I’m asking you to.” 

Peter smiled slightly when Chris did. He could look so earnest when he wanted to. 

“Maybe after I get the furniture picked out I’ll go back to your house for a nap.” 

“Okay.” 

They ate the rest of their brunch in relative silence. Chris asked if he could have Malia sleep over that Friday, Peter agreed. It only nudged another box in his mind. The box of whether or not he should have papers drawn up between them about visitations with Malia or not. Then that brought up the question of if he wanted Chris on her birth certificate, which is where he cut the line of thought. 

 

 

After Chris paid, they went to the baby store that was more of a boutique. It was where Talia had taken him shopping for Malia, before he had had his own income, and he had relied entirely on his trust fund and the generosity of his family. 

It still smelled the same as Chris held the door open for him. Fresh wood. Herbal calming scents that were infused with the stuffed animals meant for werewolf pups. As soon as he walked in the door, he saw a stuffed white wolf on the display near the door. Peter picked it up and smelled it. Cedar. It was weak enough that if he gave it to Stiles, his scent would absorb into it. 

“Stiles’s wolf is white?” Chris asked. 

“Yes,” Peter said before putting the wolf back down. 

He would get it another time or on their way out. They were only a few yards into the store when a thin older woman came from a back room with a small smile. 

“Can I help you find anything?” she asked. 

“I need a crib. I actually need an entire nursery, but I don’t want the pieces to match too closely. If I wanted that I would go to Babies R Us. I want it to be unique. Gray tones. Mild. It’s a werewolf pup and the colors can hurt their eyes. I need everything to smell as neutral as possible within reason.” 

“Okay,” she said, as if she wasn’t phased by his tone, which even he knew was bitchy. “What theme do you want?” 

“Natural.” 

“What else for a little wolf?” she asked with another of her smiles that was more patient than he deserved. “I think I have a crib you’ll love. You’ll have to give me some more ideas of what you’re looking for for the changing tables and things, but I’m sure we can get what you want,” then she looked back at him. “You’re nearly five months?” 

“Yes.” 

“That gives us plenty of time to order too if you want,” she said. “We have someone come out and assemble everything.” 

“Wonderful.” 

Peter followed her to the rear of the store, past displays that were far too garish, pastel pinks, and blues. A few pieces mixed in had promise, but on the whole, he would rather put the pup in a box than one of the cribs he saw. When he looked back at Chris, Chris laughed. 

“Such a critic.” 

“He just knows what he likes,” the woman said. 

“I do,” Peter said. 

“I’d rather work with three of you than one person who has no idea,” she said as she came to a stop at the back of the store. “These are my sets that match your criteria. Have a look around. If you need anything, just send him for me,” she said, looking at Chris before drifting off through the maze of displays. 

Peter looked at the first display. He liked the side table beside the rocking chair. The chair would do as well. It was comfortable. The next one, he took the changing table from. The crib in the last was perfect, as the woman had promised. The spindles of the crib looked like they were made of nearly raw tree branches, still keeping their shape without the overly rustic tones. The color was a muted gray, nearly white in places. 

“”That’s the one?” Chris asked. 

“How did you know?” Peter asked, looking at the price tag. His taste always cost him. 

“It looks like what you would pick out,” Chris asked, touching his lower back then sliding his arms around Peter when he didn’t pull away. “Did Malia’s look like this?” 

Peter leaned back against him. “It wasn’t dissimilar.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“I think so too,” Peter said. “Can you get the woman, so I can go take a nap?” 

“My house?” Chris asked, brushing his nose against Peter’s neck. 

“My house is under siege, so yes.” 

“I’ll take what I can get,” Chris said before he walked off to find the saleswoman. 

Peter wandered among the three nursery sets he enjoyed. He picked pieces from each, a lamp that looked like a willow tree, floating shelves made of the same wood as the crib, a changing table, even the rugs and some of the wall art. Of course the largest piece of art would be a picture of the full moon taken in Talia’s backyard on Peter’s last month pregnant, as was the tradition. 

Collecting all the tags took time and by the time they reached the register, Chris already had out his credit card. The white wolf was sitting beside his hand on the counter. 

“Chris, no-.” 

“I didn’t get to pay for Malia’s,” he said as the woman rang up the total. “Let me do this. Please.” 

Peter wanted to say something else, but he couldn't’t. Not with the look of sincerity on Chris’s face, like if he told him no, he wouldn’t argue, but he would be upset. He knew the figures in Chris’s bank rivaled even his. This was nothing to him. The happiness at doing it was worth so much more. 

“Thank you,” Peter said, hugging him. Chris hugged him back before sliding his card. 

“Thank you for letting me,” Chris said. 

The woman smelled like confusion. She was at least decent enough to not show it on her face. Peter arranged for a time to have the furniture delivered and assembled then he was back in Chris’s SUV. 

He had dropped Malia off the first night she spent with Chris. It had been late, though, so he hadn’t seen the details of the mid-sized craftsman style home Chris was renting near Beacon Hill’s main street. The front yard was covered in autumn leaves. It brought out the red of the bricks. 

“I’ve always loved the houses in this area,” Peter said as they walked up the front path from the driveway. 

“They’re nice,” Chris said. 

As they walked up the steps, Peter could smell hints of other people on the wooden planks of the front porch while Chris unlocked the door. When he pushed the door opened, Peter followed Chris inside. That smell of others was drowned when he stepped into the front hall. It smelled intensely of Allison and Chris. Their coats were hanging on hooks by the door, along with a few pairs of their shoes. Peter shrugged off his own jacket and Chris took it from him, hanging it beside his own as Peter walked farther into the house. The living room was mid-sized with a small tent set in the corner. Allison’s toys were neatly put beside it beneath dark wood framed windows that overlooked the side yard. Her puppy’s chews were near her things. 

“I’m going to let her dog out,” Chris said. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

Peter nodded as Chris went down the hall toward the back of the house. When Chris opened a door, Peter could hear the faint whimpering of Allison’s puppy and the rattling of his crate. 

Peter went to the mantle and looked at the few pictures of Allison in a collage frame. One was a school photo from what looked like the year before. Another was of her in a ballet outfit. In the smallest one, Allison was an infant and Chris was holding her in a swaddling of blankets. She still had the small hospital band on her wrist. 

Peter’s chest lurched. 

Malia was six months old when Chris thought he holding his first daughter. The look on his face was so warm. When he heard the back door open again, he put the frame down and looked over the rest of the living room. 

Allison’s puppy skidded around the corner and barrelled into his legs. Peter sat on the couch to take the pressure off his swollen ankles as he petted the dog that didn’t want to hold still. Malia’s was currently staying with Talia, because of the construction. At the thought of the construction, Peter inhaled deeply of the clean air in Chris’s house. 

Chris went to a table beneath the window and shook a few treats into his hand. The puppy left Peter and stuck to Chris like glue as he sat on the floor. Peter watched him have the puppy sit, lay down, shake, and roll over with a calm voice. The last treat he gave was a long rawhide. Chris scratched the puppy behind his ear before he stood up. 

“Do you want to lay down?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Peter said. 

Chris smiled slightly and took Peter’s hand helping him to his feet. Peter followed him down the hall to a room at the back of the house. The walls were a deep gray with thin curtains over thick blinds. Chris rolled the blinds until most of the daylight was sealed out. Peter sat on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes, then pushed off his jeans. From the corner of his eye, he saw Chris take off his t-shirt. Peter laid down beneath the soft comforter that smelled strongly of Chris. Then Chris scooted closer to him, putting his arm over his side with his chest against his back. 

“You’re on my side,” Chris said. 

“I know,” Peter said. 

Chris huffed slightly before he kissed the nape of Peter’s neck. 

“Let me know if you get too hot,” Chris said. 

Peter shook his head. “You feel good.” 

Chris kissed the back of his neck again. Peter had a moment to realize he was about to fall asleep before he passed out with Chris against his back and the scent of him mellow and nothing like the harsh dust of drywall and construction.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter was still in bed on Friday when his phone buzzed. Less than an hour ago Chris had picked Malia up to take her to school. Peter hasn’t asked him, but when Chris texted that morning and offered, he couldn’t resist. He still packed her lunch and helped her get dressed, but as soon as the door was closed behind them, he had gone straight back to bed as rain pelted the roof.

Rain meant no construction workers, which meant an entire day of peace and quiet in his home.

Then the text from Stiles popped up on his screen.

_Want to come shopping with me? I was up until like 3 AM looking at all the shit I need to buy and I’m kind of freaking out._

Peter dragged his hand down his face. He didn’t want to move. He was exhausted. The full moon was impending and that always made him wired and somehow tired at the same time. Mix it with pregnancy and he didn’t have energy for anything.

 _What time and where?_ He wrote back.

_Now?_

_No. I’m sleeping for at least three more hours._

_Ugh. Fine. Can I come over?_

_I don’t care._

_Be there in ten minutes._

Peter tossed his phone onto the bed and rolled over. He felt the smallest movements from the pup. He rubbed his stomach and the pup stirred more, tapping his ribs with something that felt like feet, but could be anything. The movements were new. He hadn’t told anyone yet. He hated people wanting to touch his stomach, but he enjoyed feeling the little pin points of pressure himself.

He fell asleep to the faint irregular bumping beneath his skin.

 

When Stiles did come into the room, Peter barely woke up as he slid into bed behind him, his warm bare skin pressing Peter’s t-shirt to his back. His palm rubbed over Peter’s swollen stomach and Peter heard his quiet growl near his ear. A growl that Stiles never would’ve made if he knew Peter was awake.

Peter decided to ignore it as he fell back to sleep.

 

They slept past noon, but the sunlight was still gray coming through Peter’s windows when he sat up. Stiles was still passed out behind him. There were rings beneath his eyes. They stood out so much against his pale skin with his dark moles and hair. Peter brushed his thumb beneath Stiles’s eye.

Stiles woke with a small jerk before stretching. Peter heard something pop in Stiles’s body before he was sitting up on the side of the bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“You look tired,” Peter said.

Stiles huffed. “I keep having the shittiest dreams. Like last night, I had a dream that I had diapers that were way too small. Like for a barbie or something and I kept trying to put it on the baby, but they wouldn’t work. Dad was pissed at me for buying the wrong size and acting like I was completely stupid.”

Peter laughed slightly and rubbed Stiles’s bare shoulders. “When you keep him overnight I’ll send enough diapers with you.”

“I’ll keep diapers at the house.”

“I know you will, but you’ll always have enough.”

Stiles pulled on his t-shirt and jeans before slipping on his shoes.

Peter pushed himself out of bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door as he took a quick shower. His chest felt tight. He rubbed his sternum as he stood in the hot water. Every time he thought of Stiles keeping his pup he shoved it out of his mind. It was too soon to worry about.

Except, it wasn’t. The pup would be with them in only a few months.

When the heat of the water made Peter stagger, he hurried and washed his hair. As he dried off, his head was pounding slightly as dark spots danced at the sides of his vision. He needed to test his blood pressure before they left the house. But he forgot as he went into his bedroom to dress. The thought didn’t cross his mind again until he was leaving the driveway with Stiles in the passenger seat.

 

They went to the commercial baby store a town over. It was the quietest car ride he had ever had with Stiles, but with the faint pounding in his head, that was fine with him. Stiles was probably just as tired as he looked.

Even on a work day, the parking lot was full as Peter found a spot near the front and they walked through gray drizzle. The smell of wet tar and tires filled his nose as the sound of horns reached them from the street.

Inside the big box store the ceilings were so incredibly tall and sterile as parents and grandparents milled through the aisles like ants. Being near the full moon, being near so many humans wasn’t optimal, but pregnancy dulled his aggression. He was just exhausted as he walked with Stiles down the aisles.

“What do you still need to get?” Stiles asked as he picked up the display of a baby monitor that sensed if the baby stopped breathing for longer than twenty seconds.

“I need to buy a few pairs of clothes for while we’re in the hospital. Otherwise I’m sure we’ll both get enough from other people. If you see something you like in an infant size, get it. I already ordered the outfit I wanted to put him in offline.”

“Yeah? What does it look like?” Stiles asked.

“It’s a gray hooded onesie with wolf ears covered in rabbits.”

Stiles laughed slightly, looking at the boys section. “Cute.”

“You know the pack will love him in it,” Peter said.

“What are they not going to love him in?”

“True,” Peter said.

“You okay?” Stiles asked.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“I don’t know. You just don’t really seem like you want to be here,” Stiles said.

“I do. I’m just exhausted,” Peter said. “Malia climbed into bed with me last night. She kept hitting my stomach which was making the baby move.”

“You’re feeling him move?”

“Some.”

“Really?” Stiles asked.

“Mhm. If he gets going today I’ll let you feel.”

“Awesome,” Stiles said, smiling slightly, but his eyes were distant as he looked at a small pair of overalls.

“You’re not putting my child in overalls,” Peter said.

“Don’t tempt me. I’ll blow up your phone with pictures of him in them.”

Peter laughed slightly as they continued through the store. When they got to the baby hygiene section, Peter showed Stiles’s the bottles and brands he planned to use. Stiles put the same ones in the basket.

Then they were on the cribs. All he could think about was Chris and how he had been so calm walking through the aisles of the boutique in Beacon Hills with him as they picked out the items for the nursery. Not that Chris had picked anything at all himself. He had just followed Peter and taken the tags to give the cashier.

Stiles couldn’t have been more different, looking at the price tags of the bassinets and cribs with a divot between his brow.

“I don’t get it,” Stiles said. “Can’t they just sleep in this thing?”

“That’s for when they’re small and sleeping in your bedroom. The cribs are for their nursery,” Peter said.

“Oh.”

Then Stiles dragged his hands down his gaunt face. He stared around them at the shelves looming over them with so many options it was enough to boggle even Peter, who had already gone through this once. Peter tugged Stiles’s hand.

“Once he’s here all of this is going to seem easy. You’ll know what he needs and what you need to take care of him.”

Stiles laughed hollowly before he dropped Peter’s hand.

“I’m guessing Chris didn’t have this problem when you guys looked,” Stiles said.

Peter frowned at Stiles. He hadn't told him Chris had come with him when he picked out the nursery furniture. He had told Talia, but he doubted very much that she had said anything about it to Derek.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did you really go shopping with him for our kid’s stuff?”

Peter felt his eyes flash and with the moon impending, that was impossible to keep from happening.

“Yes. I did. He offered and I needed to go.”

“And you didn’t think that’s something I should’ve done with you instead?”

“So you could criticize every choice I made?”

Stiles snorted. “When do I ever do that?”

Peter stared at him flatly. They both knew when they shopped together, the very few times they had, it had ended with Stiles heckling him for the price tags.

“He offered. I needed to go, like I said before. If you haven’t kept time, the baby is due in less than two months. My house is a disaster. I can’t set up anything the way I want to. I’ve slept more at Talia’s house than my own, because of the dust and yet you want to get bitchy about my daughter’s father taking me to pick out furniture?”

“Yeah, because it’s fucked up,” Stiles said, keeping his voice low, but his tone flat. “It’s my kid, Peter. Not his. I should’ve-”

“Then why didn’t you offer to take me?” Peter asked. “If it was so important to you. You never once asked me to go. You haven’t even watched Malia for me like you used to. But he’s there. He’s there taking her to school, even when I don’t ask. He cooks dinner when I’m so sick I can barely keep anything down. But where have you been? Since I showed you that box you’ve only come over to fuck me.”

“Oh yeah and I guess he hasn’t been doing that at all? It hasn’t occurred to you that he’s just doing this to get to you?”

“He’s been very clear about what he wants from me, Stiles. He wants to be the father to my children. A partner. All while you’ve been acting the part of a kicked pup. I won’t turn a man away whose stepping up just so you’ll stop pouting. If you want to be there, then you be there. Or don’t. I’ve done this without the father of my kid and I can do it again.”

The knot of Stiles’s jaw clenched and his eyes were amber. At least he wasn’t growling in the middle of a commercial nursery display covered in yellow ducks.

“How am I supposed to do that when every time I go to come over, he’s already there?”

“That isn’t for me to figure out. I have enough on my plate without adding a petulant puppy of a man to it,” Peter said.

“That isn’t fair. This is my kid and he’s getting to-”

“What is he getting to do, Stiles?” Peter asked, cutting him off. “Laundry? Cook? Take care of the girls? You understand this is my daughter’s father, right? He’s doing whatever he has to do to earn my trust again. And you’re acting like I’m doing this just to hurt you, like everything about this revolves around you. There’s a little girl at the middle of this who is getting to know her father and while that’s happening, she has still asked me why you haven’t been over. She misses you, but you don’t care, because you think I owe you something.”

“He doesn’t get to make up for missing Malia by hijacking my role here,” Stiles said his voice raising slightly.

“If you were there at all, he wouldn’t have the chance, Stiles,” Peter said. “If you want out, then get out. I’d love you to be part of his life, but I can do it without you.”

“You’d love that wouldn’t you?” Stiles asked. “So you can just play happy family with Chris, like he never abandoned you and your kid.”

Peter stared at Stiles for a moment and could see him regretting what he had just said, but he was as stubborn as Peter.

“Call someone to pick you up,” Peter said, walking away.

“Peter,” Stiles called.

Peter kept walking, his skin hot and the urge to vomit stirring. The pup was moving in him. He put his hand on his stomach and tried to blink away the pulsing at the edges of his vision. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he left the building.

The cold air hit the sweat beading on his brow. He breathed it in and went to his BMW. By the time he reached it, his hands were barely trembling and the urge to vomit was tapering. He rested his head against the steering wheel and inhaled the cold air of the cabin. He just wanted to sleep until this pregnancy was over.

He wanted to wake up in two years and find out which path he had chosen.

Then his phone vibrated on his leg. He answered it when he saw Talia’s name.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I stopped by to bring you a muffin, but you weren’t home.”

“No I’m in the city with Stiles,” Peter said.

“Oh,” Talia said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound like it.”

“Because I’m a liar,” he said, as he squeezed his eyes shut. “This would be so much easier if this pup was Chris’s.”

“I know,” Talia said. “Aren’t you with Stiles right now?”

“No. We had an argument in Buy Buy Baby, so we are obviously completely prepared to raise a child together.”

Talia laughed slightly. There was some humor to it, but she sounded just as worn out as he was. He heard the creak of her sitting in her front porch swing. It was distinct as the squeak of the screen door.

“He just doesn’t know where he stands.”

“I don’t know either,” Peter said. “I just know that one of them is trying to be there for me regardless of what I decide and the other isn’t.”

“Chris is kissing your ass.”

“He’s good at it.”

“I know he is, but he has a lot more to make up for than Stiles. Stiles has just been a brat for a few weeks. Chris was gone for years.”

Peter rubbed his forehead before sitting back in the cold leather of his seats. He still hadn’t turned on the car. The cold still felt good against his heated skin.

“He just dropped Malia.”

“He has done that,” Talia said, like it was one point she wouldn’t cover Stiles for.

Peter exhaled in the quiet of his car. The faint scent of the city was creeping into the cabin, but for the most part the faint smell of the seats was enough to soothe his wolf. The scent of Malia and Allison’s booster seats in the back helped even more.

“This is all going to work out,” Talia said.

“I know it will,” he said. “I’ll talk to you this evening.”

“Love you. Drive carefully.”

“I will. Love you too,” he said, hanging up.

He sat for a few more moments, staring at the cars passing through the strip mall parking lot. Then Stiles knocked on the passenger side glass. Peter unlocked the doors. Stiles was empty handed as he sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. His face was red from the cold or anger.

“I don’t understand how I’m supposed to make room for myself in your life or my kids life if he’s there all the time,” Stiles said with forced calm, but the words came out like vomit.

“I don’t know. All I know is that he’s made time for himself in my family and not only time to crawl into bed with me.”

“That’s the only time you used to give me. It’s not fair.”

“You never wanted anything more. You said you did, but you never asked me. You liked that I was a horny single dad willing to give it up to you whenever you came around.”

Stiles inhaled staring down at his fingers on the leg of his jeans. “That’s not true.”

“We weren’t together, Stiles,” he said as gently as he could. It still came out barbed.

“Because of him-”

“If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have my daughter, Stiles. I wouldn’t be in Beacon Hills anymore. We would have never met. Stop blaming him for everything.”

As the cold finally started to make Peter’s skin pebble, he pushed the ignition and backed out of his packing spot. Only the radio and wind noise was between them until they were on the freeway heading back to Beacon Hills from the larger city.

“I want to help you,” Stiles said quietly.

If Peter weren’t a wolf, he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Then do it.”

“I’ll try.”

“No, you either do this as a parent or you don’t. If you don’t want to be here for the baby, then you don’t have to be.”

Stiles growled quietly. “Of course I want to be part of the baby’s life.”

“And you don’t think Chris feels the same about Malia?”

Stiles nodded slightly before he began biting his fingernail. “I’ll start being there.”

“Okay,” Peter said.

The drive home was still nearly silent. The baby started to move a few miles outside of Beacon Hills and hadn’t settled as he pulled into the driveway. It was still raining as he got out of his SUV and went up the steps to his porch. He flipped through his keys and was faintly surprised when he heard Stiles’s behind him.

As he unlocked the door and went inside, Stiles followed after him. Peter flipped on the lights with the light through the windows dull and gray. He sorted through rain splattered mail that Talia must have brought for him, sitting beside a tray of muffins.

Stiles stood near the couch with his hands in his hoodie pockets.

When the baby gave a particularly hard hit, Peter grunted slightly, touching the spot without paying much attention.

“Can I feel it?” Stiles asked.

It took Peter a second to realize what he meant before he nodded and put the mail down. Stiles came into his space and put his hand on Peter’s stomach. His hair smelled of rain, faintly like wet dog. The baby moved again and Peter barely moved Stiles’s hand over, both of them waiting in silence until the pup moved again. Then Stiles’s face lit as he smiled, his thumb brushing Peter’s stomach. The pup moved again and Stiles stepped closer, putting his other hand on the side of Peter’s stomach.

“I don’t want you to miss things like this, Stiles,” Peter said quietly. “But you’re going to have to get along with Chris. If you can’t, then we need to have papers drawn up with Talia for custody and I don’t want to do that,” he said, sliding his hand over Stiles’s.

Stiles looked up from Peter’s stomach, but left his hands where they were. Their pup kept moving. It was subtle. He was still small, but they were there, like a tiny irregular pulse.

“I don’t want him to take my kid away from me,” Stiles said quietly. His dark eyes showed water so easily.

Peter brushed his cheek. “He would never try, but even if he did, I would never let him.”

Stiles pressed his forehead against Peter’s and Peter put his arm around Stiles’s shoulders, holding him as Stiles kept his hand on Peter’s stomach. Stiles inhaled against the side of his throat and his body went slack, like every line of tension had been cut.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here,” he whispered.

“I’m not going to ask you to do anything,” Peter said against his hair. “But if you want to be here, you know my door is open, regardless of if Chris is here. There’s nothing happening with him that isn’t happening between us.”

Stiles nodded. Peter ran his fingers through the back of his damp hair and held Stiles for a long time as rain fell against the tin of the front porch roof.

 

 

 

That night, Peter slept alone. Chris had taken Malia for her third sleepover at his house. Stiles had stayed for lunch and looked at the expansion of Peter’s home that was nearly finished. They hadn’t gone near the bedroom, both of them avoiding it.

When Stiles went home around five, after Peter helped him make a list of things to buy online for setting up a small nursery at his house, Talia came over. She had the decency to wait half an hour after Stiles’s Jeep left his driveway.

They ate popcorn and didn’t speak much as they watched a suspense thriller. If there was one thing Peter loved about her over everything else it was her innate knowledge of when he just needed to be in the company of another person and not speak at all.

After the movie ended, Talia went home and Peter called Malia to talk to her. He spoke to Chris for awhile, asked how Malia had been, Chris asked him how he had felt that day, and that was it. Then Peter was crawling into his blessedly quiet bed before eleven o’clock on a Friday without having to worry about waking up in the middle of the night to get Malia a glass of water or letting her crawl into his bed.

He should have known it was too good to be true.

It felt like he had been asleep for second when his phone went off on his bedside table. Even on the lowest setting it was piercing as he was yanked from sleep. He only glanced at Chris’s name on the screen before he answered.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry. Malia had a bad dream,” Chris said, his own voice thick with sleep.

Then Peter heard the quiet sniffing in the background he was all too familiar with.

“Put her on the phone.”

“Honey, it’s your daddy,” Chris said away from the speaker before Malia’s sniffling was in the speaker.

“Daddy?”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, laying back with his eyes closed. His heart was still pounding after being jerked from sleep.

“I miss you. Can you come get me?”

Peter looked at his bedside table. 3:00 AM.

“Of course. Put Chris back on the phone,” Peter said.

“Dad? Daddy wants to talk to you.”

At the sound of her voice calling Chris dad and Chris’s deep sleep rough voice, Peter’s chest tightened slightly before the phone cracked and transferred again.

“She’s still new to all of this,” Peter said.

“I know,” Chris said.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“Be careful.”

“I will be,” Peter said before he hung up the phone.

He got out of bed, pulled on the only pair of lounge pants that still fit over the swell of his stomach. Exhaustion felt physical over his limbs as he pulled on a t-shirt and slipped on a pair of shoes. With his expanding gut it took longer to find a comfortable position each night. Then it took a certain amount of time for the spawn inside of him to realize it was time to mellow before the movement inside of him stilled enough for him to sleep.

In the car, he rolled down the windows in the cold night air. The moon glowed closer to the top of the trees in silver light as he drove along the deserted roads to Chris’s home. In less than a week, he would be in Talia’s backyard along with the rest of the pack. Except at this rate, he would be sleeping on the porch on a soft pallet of blankets, letting Stiles and Talia keep track of Malia as he slept.

As he pulled into Chris’s driveway, the pup was having a hayday inside of him. Peter put a hand on his side to try and make him stop as he walked up the front steps and knocked on the heavy wood front door.

When Chris didn’t answer, he opened the door. Chris was laying on the couch in the living room. The only light was the blue monotone cast from the TV. Chris looked toward him, but didn’t move with Malia passed out on top of him, her cheek on his shoulder.

“She passed out five minutes ago,” Chris said.

Peter walked toward the couch and reached over the back to brush Malia’s hair back from her face. Chris’s hand was on her back, spanning from her ribs to her shoulders. It made her look so small.

“I should’ve called you.”

“It’s fine. I was already on my way,” Peter said.

“Do you want to stay the night? I can put her back to bed,” Chris said.

Peter watched Malia sleeping on Chris’s chest, her small body rising and falling as he breathed before he nodded.

“If she’ll sleep.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Then Chris moved slightly. When Malia didn’t, he stood, scooping her up in an easy movement. Malia’s fingers curled into his t-shirt, but otherwise she didn’t budge as he walked down the hallway to Allison's bedroom.

Peter followed and watched Chris lay Malia in Allison’s bed after pulling back the covers. As he tucked her in, her eyes opened. The amber of them glowed green in the light from the full moon night light plugged into the wall.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asked so quietly that Peter barely heard.

Malia nodded before she rolled over toward Allison, probably never entirely conscious, before Peter listened to her breathing even again as Chris came toward him. Peter stood there for a moment, making sure her breathing and heart rhythm were even before he pulled the door mostly closed.

Chris looked at him for a moment before taking his hand and pulling slightly. Peter followed him down the hall to the bedroom he had napped in only a few days before. It smelled of Chris. Not of cologne or soap or shampoo. There was nothing artificial. It smelled of his skin being pressed into the sheets, his hair and beard rubbing against his pillow. It was a concentrated dose of natural scent that Peter felt like he could wallow in as his tired body gravitated toward the bed.

He could still smell himself on the pillowcase he had slept on. Now it smelled like Chris too.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what upset her,” Chris said.

“The full moon is next weekend. It’s always hard on her.”

“I thought about that,” Chris said as he laid in bed beside Peter. “I would really like to be with her on the full moon.”

Peter looked at him in the silver light of the moon through the thin curtains.

“We spend it with the entire pack.”

“I know. She told me.”

“And Stiles.”

“I figured.”

Peter watched him, scented the air slightly for the barest hints of aggression, but there were none. Not animosity toward Stiles or the fact that he would be at the full moon run, like he always was. He could smell Malia on him, though, woven into the soft fabric of the t-shirt he wore. Peter scooted closer and inhaled the scent of his skin and the smell of Malia that was just as unnameable and unmoveable as the scent of Chris mixed together. Allison’s smell was worn into his skin too, like he was sure Malia’s was worn into his own.

Chris cupped the back of his neck and stroked the nape of his hair softly with his thumb. Peter moved closer to him, the solidness of his side was comforting against his stomach, putting his leg over Chris’s was more comfortable too. He was warm and it soothed the ache of his bones that he had hardly noticed until it was gone.

“I can feel him moving around in there,” Chris said, laughing slightly.

“He never stops,” Peter said, resting his cheek against Chris’s shoulder.

Chris put his hand on the side of his stomach. The pup loved to put on a show. It hit directly at the pressure of Chris’s hand.

Chris’s unique scent of affection swelled. With his nose near the crook of his neck, Peter could smell it in hyper clarity.

“You seem stressed,” Chris said.

Peter swallowed and shook his head slightly. “I just.. I helped Stiles pick out the things for the nursery at his house.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not ready to hand off my pup to someone else. Not when he’s small enough to still need a crib.”

Chris rubbed his back, working into his sore shoulders. Peter pressed into his neck and the scent of his biology that soothed something throbbing and needy in his own. He let out a pent up breath and Chris squeezed him.

“Did you talk to Stiles about it?”

“No,” Peter said. “There’s no point. It’s just something I have to come to terms with.”

“Maybe, but he seems reasonable. He obviously knows you well too,” Chris said. “It’s not going to shock him that you’re worried about the pup being away from you.”

“He already thinks I don’t want him to be part of the pup’s life.”

“You’re just worried about someone else having your baby. He’ll understand that when he actually sees how small he is.”

“I just know how much can go wrong,” Peter whispered, like he was afraid saying it too loudly would give the universe ideas.

“Everything will be okay,” Chris said just as quietly, pressing his face into Peter’s hair.

Peter held him back. Chris kept Malia and he had warmed to that enough. It was nice to have an evening to himself, even if he missed her badly by morning.

Maybe it would be the same with his pup. Although, Malia was seven and not weeks or even months old. Peter shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. He had two months before he had to worry about that.

“You can come to Talia’s on the full moon,” Peter said.

“Thank you,” Chris said, rubbing his hand over his stomach. “This is all going to work out.”

Slowly, the pup stopped moving. Maybe he had tired himself out, but Peter thought the way that Chris was rubbing his t-shirt covered skin had more to do with it, the rhythmic circles that were even putting him to sleep as his exhausted body finally gave in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small note, I know reading poly or triad relationships gets people pretty riled. Just keep in mind that no one in my poly fics knows the correct way to effectively communicate with one partner, let alone two. 😛
> 
> My fics almost always have a happy ending, so please trust the storyline. Getting a lot of negative comments (even when you guys are just being super passionate and AWESOME) makes me feel like I'm not writing well. 
> 
> It really really slows my progress. I can't write them all happy and healthy and have it be as gratifying if they don't board the struggle bus for awhile. ❤
> 
> Thank you guys for reading. ❤❤❤


	13. Chapter 13

By Monday, most of the things for the nursery at Stiles’s house were already delivered. When Stiles asked if he wanted to come over, Peter went happily. The construction would be finished with his own house later in the day after almost two months, but the scent of paint from touch ups was too strong for his head.

“The clothes are so small,” Stiles said, opening one of the flat boxes.

“Those are even too big for a newborn,” Peter said.

“Really?”

“Consider that this thing has to exit my body.”

“Yeah I guess,” Stiles said. “How’ve you been feeling?”

“Bitchy,” Peter said, trying to read the instructions for putting together the changing table.

The faux wood was a pretty color. Then again, he had picked it out. However, there was a lot of bending involved in its construction if the directions were anything to go by. He would leave that for John and Stiles.

“You know you could have extorted your family and friends for a lot of this,” Peter said.

“I know, but my family is kind of your family, so I don’t really want them to have to pay out twice.”

“They have the money for it.”

“I know, but still,” Stiles said. “Laura already said she bought the bassinet thing to keep by my bed.”

“That was sweet,” Peter said, even as his chest tightened.

Stiles sat back from his knees to his butt. “I’m... “ then he just frowned, staring at the floor.

“What?”

“Are you going to even want me to keep him that young?”

“No, no really,” Peter said. He smelled the faint hurt, but it was followed by a scent almost like relief. “I wish I weren’t so paranoid, but I’m terrified of letting him out of my sight when he’s that small.”

Stiles toyed with the edge of the cardboard box beside him before he nodded. “I’m nervous about keeping him too, but I don’t want to miss out.”

“I don’t want you to miss out either. Stay the night. Come over. Be there as often as you want. I just don’t want to say that I’m going to be okay with something only to change my mind and hurt your feelings worse.”

Stiles nodded again as he started to gnaw on his fingernail. “What about visiting Dad?”

“Of course you’ll be able to take him to see John. I’m just don’t know how soon I’ll be able to swallow overnight visits.”

He wouldn’t say it, but the thought of John holding the pup rested easier in his chest than the thought of Stiles, who he had witnessed trip over his own feet more times than he could count.

He stretched backward, trying to ease the ache in his lower back. When he stood up and swayed Stiles was already half on his feet to steady him when Peter waved him off. The dark spots that pulsed at the edges of his vision tapered after a few moments.

“I’m fine.”

“You looked like you were going to pass out,” Stiles said.

“I stood up too fast.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, even as he watched him like a herding dog. “Do you need something to drink?”

“I’d take a water,” Peter said.

When Stiles left the room, Peter allowed himself to wince and rub at his stomach. The mild cramps had started over the weekend. He had called Deaton, but Deaton didn’t seem overly concerned. When he checked the journal he had kept during his pregnancy with Malia, he had started to cramp around the same time. His due date was just around the corner. The pup was more active every day. Cramps were normal.

Unfortunately, when he showed any signs of pain, Stiles and Chris liked to oversaturate the air with anxiety, which did nothing for his own worry. Talia was the only one who handled it well. Then again, she was the only one who had experienced the same thing.

By the time Stiles came back into the room, Peter stood upright, barely touching his still cramping stomach. He focused on how cool the water felt in his mouth then down his throat and not on the look of concern Stiles boring into him. When he put the glass down, he walked around Stiles’s living room. Stiles glanced at him a few times before going back to opening boxes.

“Chris will be at the full moon run,” Peter said.

Stiles’s lip twitched. Even on his human face Peter could imagine the way his pale muzzle would lift.

“Stop,” Peter said. “You need to get along with him.”

“I guess.”

Peter stared at Stiles until Stiles stopped fiddling with the box and met his eyes for a few seconds before looking away again.

“Give him a chance and you might actually like him. You are a fan of his kid.”

“She’s six and cute.”

“He’s a smartass and almost as old as your father. All of your kinks wrapped in one.”

“You’re my kinks wrapped in one.”

“I’m not graying.”

“Look in the mirror,” Stiles said.

“If there is gray, then it’s from growing the bean pod.”

Stiles snorted slightly. “Bean pod?”

Peter shrugged. “I just need you to be good. It’s important that he get to know her wolf and more importantly, that her wolf gets used to him.”

“It’s not like I’d maul him.”

“Yeah? Don’t piss on him either. Or me.”

Stiles laughed slightly. “No promises.”

“I will eat you if you pee on me.”

“Promises promises,” Stiles said, before holding up the sheets he had bought for the crib. “That green is kinda nice right? Maybe I should paint his room that color.”

“It’s pretty,” Peter said, easing himself back down onto the couch.

“I guess it’s time to get the old man over for a painting party,” Stiles said.

“Use up all those grandpa cards you have,” Peter said, watching as Stiles opened more boxes and waiting for the pulsing in his head to go away.

 

 

On his way home from Stiles, Peter called Chris. It rang a few times and Peter thought it might go to voicemail. He almost hung up himself. His ideas was stupid, but it had seemed like a decent one as he’d sat in Stiles’s living room, seeing him getting more and more excited about the things he had bought.

“Hello?” Chris answered.

“Hello,” Peter replied into his phone with one elbow propped on the door. His head was pounding. As soon as he got home, he was going to eat one of the jello cups he kept, take his blood pressure, and lay down.

“What’s up?” Chris asked.

“Bring a tug rope to the full moon.”

The line was quiet enough that Peter looked at the screen to make sure he hadn’t lost signal.

“Really?”

“How else are you going to play with your wolf daughter? You can’t outrun her.”

“I thought toys would be offensive.”

“Some packs might maul off your arm, but we’re not above saying we like a good ball.”

“How enlightened.”

“Thank you,” Peter said. “How are you going to feel if Stiles wants to play with something you bring?”

Then Chris did laugh. Peter could hear the microwave beep in the background.

“I’ll do whatever you want with him, but I don’t want to get bitten.”

“Risk it.”

“Really, Peter. How likely is this kid to bite me?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see,” Peter said. “I’m not going to be up to playing peacekeeper, but Talia will keep an eye on you to make sure nothing gets out of hand.”

He heard Chris exhale and could almost see the roll of his shoulders before he answered.

“Okay.”

Peter laughed slightly as he pulled up in front of his house and put his SUV into park. “This is your best chance at getting along with him. His wolf is a slut for games. Get a tug rope.”

“I’m more than happy to get to know him. I just don’t know if that feeling is mutual.”

“It isn’t, but I believe in your charisma.”

“Thanks,” Chris snorted. “How are you feeling today?”

“My head won’t stop pounding. I’m going to go lay down until I need to pick up Malia.”

“I’ll get her. I have to get Allison anyway. I’ll take them for pizza or bring some back to your house if you want,” Chris said.

Eventually Chris would stop kissing his ass as much as he did, but for the moment, he enjoyed it just as it was.

“Either way is fine,” Peter said.

“Okay we’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.”

“I will.”

Peter hung up and sat in his car for a few minutes. The construction crews were gone. All that was left to show they were there were their tire tracks in the grass. He was too tired to even be overjoyed by that. His head hurt badly enough that he wanted to vomit for the first time in a few weeks.

After a few minutes, he pushed himself out of his car and went up the front steps. When he stepped inside, he smelled no one. The floors were clean, very clean. After the dust of work boots covering his hardwoods for over a month, it was a welcome sight.

He flipped on the lights as he went, down the hall and peaked into his old bedroom that was now Malia’s bedroom. They had finished painting. Her bed was even moved in and set up. Her toys were still in boxes, but knowing Malia they would be strung across the floor in no time.

The bathroom that connected Malia’s room and the guest room was cleaned of dust and dirt. It was far too pretty of a bathroom for a little girl, but as she got older she would appreciate it more. He hoped.

The room that could become Allison’s or could remain empty was painted a light gray. It still smelled strongly of paint with patches still dark on the walls.

Peter crossed the hallway and looked into what used to be Malia’s room. He had intentionally not looked inside in the last few weeks. It made the finished product so much more satisfying. The carpet was the same color as the other bedrooms, thick and plush. The walls were a shade of green he had let Talia choose when he couldn’t stand to look at samples any longer. It was surprisingly close to the color Stiles had picked from the sheets he’d bought.

Peter took a picture with his phone and sent it to Stiles.

Talia stole your color thunder.

He stood in the doorway and considered going toward the boxes in the corner, but he didn’t have the energy. He could call the furniture store where he had bought the nursery set and finally give them a time to come and set everything up. Hopefully they could come out that week. His wolf would be less restless come the full moon if he knew everything was in place.

His phone vibrated in his hand as he went down the hall, curving toward the right to the new addition. His bedroom was a step down with his large bed set in the center. They had put that together a few days before. The painting had been done a week before, but the paint fumes were still lingering. Peter opened the windows despite the chill in the air before crawling into bed.

Then he looked at Stiles’s text.

_Then we’ll keep it green for consistency. :P That looks really nice._

It was followed by another vibration.

_I’m getting really excited, but nervous. Lol_

_Same_ , Peter replied. _It’s all going to work out, though._

_I think so too._

_Well I know so._

_Lol fine, bossy._

Peter sent back a smiley face before putting his phone on the bedside table and rolling over. His head was still pounding like a drum. He’d forgotten to eat anything, but even remembering he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed. He wasn’t hungry. His head just hurt. When Chris showed up with the girls he would eat pizza. That would be enough.

 

***

 

Chris hadn’t experienced a full moon with a pack of wolves since he was twenty-eight, which was the last full moon he had spent with Peter and the Hales. As he walked around the house to the backyard with Allison on his hip and her overnight backpack hanging from his hand, it felt surreal.

His life had changed so much, and yet, as long as he didn’t look to his left where Peter’s expanded house was, it all looked unchanged. The tall evergreens mixed with oaks that lined the backyard and stretched for miles, the perfectly manicured stretch of lawn between the house and the woods.

It even smelled the same.

As he came around the house, a few of the pack were already shifted. Chris didn’t recognize their coat colors, but then again, if it wasn’t Peter’s gray coat, he probably wouldn’t recognize any of them.

“Dad?” Allison asked, scooting closer to him and eyeing the wolves.

“It’s okay. They’re friendly,” he said, even as the hunter in him was wary.

Then a young pup ran down the stairs of the back stone stairs. If the way she was running toward them hadn’t given her away, a large white wolf chasing after her, then Peter, on two feet, trailing behind would have. The white wolf stopped when it saw Chris. Its lips wrinkled slightly as its ears angled back. Before any noise could leave its mouth, Peter flicked it on the ear.

“Stop,” he said.

Stiles.

Chris stared at him with Allison solid against him. “I’m going to put her down. Growl at me all you want, but if you so much as lift your lip at her, you won’t be having a second pup anytime soon.”

“Dad?” Allison asked again, looking at Stiles and holding onto his shirt tighter.

“He won’t hurt you, sweetheart,” Peter said. “Stiles, you scared her.”

The wolf had incredibly expressive eyes. He didn’t want to back down, but he didn’t like scaring a little girl. He sniffed Allison’s leg before giving a small lick.

Chris crouched down with Allison and Stiles sniffed her. When his tail swayed slightly. Chris relaxed. Wolves had no more control over that than their heartbeat.

When Allison petted his cheek, Stiles licked her hand.

“Allison, the one you need to watch out for is Malia,” Peter said. “She’s still Malia,” he said, holding Malia in his arms. “But she plays rough. If she hurts you tell her. She doesn’t mean to, but she’s used to playing with Stiles and Derek.”

“That’s Malia?”

At Allison saying her name, Malia started to flop in Peter’s arms. Peter put her on the ground, but held her by her scruff.

“Calm down, ‘Lia,” Peter said, gently pulling on her scruff until Malia sat and looked back at him, upside down. “Be easy,” he said.

Malia gave a small sneeze.

When she was still, Peter let her go and Malia ran up to Allison, licking her hands and face. Allison started to laugh and climbed off Chris’s knee play with her. Stiles shot after them, like a border collie.

“Can I trust him?” Chris asked.

“He wouldn’t hurt a little girl,” Peter said, watching them play with Stiles nearby. “But he’ll nip Malia if she gets too rough.”

“She’s the same color as you,” Chris said.

“We’re almost identical,” Peter said before he looked down at Chris’s hand, holding Allison’s bag. “You can bring that up on the porch. Malia will fall asleep before eleven most likely. We already have a pallet made for her and Allison in front of the TV in Talia’s living room.”

“Okay,” Chris said, following him up the stairs. “Are you shifting?”

“Yes. I was just waiting for you to get here. I thought it might be confusing to have a pack of wolves converging on you and trying to guess who was who.”

“I appreciate it.”

As Chris walked up the stairs, there were only a few humans left as night had completely set in about an hour ago. Their faces glowed red and orange in the strong light of the firepit sitting in the center of the concrete walk-out. Near a group of chairs was a large circle that looked like an extra large dog bed with added blankets and pillows.

“Is that where you’ll be?” Chris asked.

“How did you guess?”

“I didn’t think you’d be up to running through the woods,” Chris lied.

It was written all over Peter’s face. In the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way his hair was soft and unfixed, and the haphazard way he was dressed. He wouldn’t be hunting any deer tonight.

“Not with this attached to me,” he said, touching his stomach. “Talia has raw steak if I get hungry.”

“Good sister.”

“She’ll do,” Peter said. “I’m going to go shift. Open the door for me when I come back out if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Chris said.

Then Peter went into the house. He hadn’t made any moves to introduce Chris to the people around them, so Chris didn’t go out of his way to do so. Instead, he sat in a chair beside the large low-sided nest Peter had for himself where he could still watch Allison and Malia. They were easier to keep track of with the large white wolf shadowing them.

When a black wolf came from the trees and toward the girls, Chris started to stand up before the door opened beside him and Talia came out. She handed him a glass of tea then followed where he was staring.

“Relax. It’s Derek,” Talia said.

“That’s Derek?”

“A lot changes in eight years,” Talia said.

“I guess so,” Chris said, taking the tea she offered and relaxing back into his chair as Derek sniffed Allison, his tail wagging.

“He’s so good with kids. When he finds the right person we’re going to be overrun with them.”

Chris laughed slightly. “Are you not shifting tonight?”

“Maybe later.”

Then there was a scratching on the glass behind them. Talia opened the door for Peter, who was on four legs. Out of all the wolves, Chris recognized him. He didn’t know what it was, maybe the fact that he had brown mixed in his coat or the dark spot on his chest, but it didn’t matter. It all came together in a pattern he would never forget.

“Hey,” Chris said, like he hadn’t just spoken to Peter.

Peter came up to his offered hand and rubbed against it. Chris’s eyes suddenly stung. He had forgotten he did that, like a cat. Then Chris scratched over his sides that were taut. He could feel the pup in him after only a few seconds. He was such an active baby. Then again, seeing the white wolf spin in circles on the lawn, he could see why.

Then he took Peter’s head in his hands, rubbing his thumbs back from Peter’s amber eyes.

“I missed you.”

Peter licked him a few times, his ears angled back before he stepped away and shook out his fur. His weight must have caught him off guard because he stumbled. Even with being right there, he and Talia didn’t have time to react before Stiles was running up the stairs and licking Peter’s face. Peter angled up his chin before he finally growled quietly and caught Stiles’s muzzle in his jaws loosely. Stiles pulled away and licked his nose, making Peter sneeze. Stiles took the distraction to lick him a few more times before he ran off the stairs again to where Derek was watching Malia and Allison.

Chris laughed slightly, petting Peter’s neck. Peter let him for a moment before he walked onto the large bed and started to claw at the blankets. Talia leaned over to help him fluff up the blankets and pillows before Peter laid down with a low groan. Talia put adjusted some of the pillows around him until Peter was cushioned on all sides. Chris leaned over to pet the side of Peter’s face. Peter’s ears flicked, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“He thinks he’ll be able to stay out here until the girls call it a night. He’s wrong,” Talia said.

Peter rumbled.

It sounded tired.

“But Malia shifted earlier than usual, so maybe we’ll get lucky and the girls will tire out sooner too,” Talia siad.

“Maybe,” Chris said, “If I go down and play with Malia am I going to get bitten by anyone?”

“No, just don’t go into the woods, but Malia isn’t allowed into the woods without me or Peter anyway.”

“How offensive is a squeak toy?”

Talia laughed slightly. “The adults will act like it’s offensive, but they’ll all chase a ball.”

“That’s what Peter said,” Chris said, standing up and going down the steps.

Malia and Allison were looking at something in the grass, Malia with her wolf snout shoved into the dirt and Allison leaned over beside her. Even as a pup Malia came up to Allison’s thigh. Stiles and Derek were nearby. Stiles was nipping at Derek’s face trying to get Derek to play, but Derek only rolled over.

Chris reach into the pocket of his jacket and squeaked the ball connected to a rope he’d brought in his pocket. Malia’s head shot up before she zeroed in on him. He didn’t look directly at Stiles, but he saw him staring at him too.

“Come here, girls,” Chris said, crouching down.

Malia ran toward him with Allison close behind. Malia jumped on him and tried to get the ball out of his hand. Chris gently pushed her down.

“Easy. Your teeth are sharp,” Chris said.

Malia made a bastardized yodel. Chris laughed. He knew wolves were rarely as dignified as most things painted them, but that as a new noise. From the corner of his eyes he could see Stiles staring at him, his head resting on Derek’s neck with his ears perked.

“Ali, I’m going to throw this like we do for the puppies, but you need to watch out, because Malia is fast. Don’t let her trip you,” Chris said.

Allison nodded in her serious way before Chris pulled back and threw the ball. He didn’t throw it far, but neither of the girls’ legs were that long. It didn’t surprise him that Malia got to the ball first, but like he counted on, Allison didn’t care. She just chased after Malia. When they reached Chris, Chris grabbed one end of he tug rope and pulled enough to make Malia dig in her feet and tug with her small head twisting.

Chris let her yank him a few times before he asked her to drop it. After a few seconds she did. Then she sat on the grass beside Allison. The moon brought out the prettiest colors in her pale gray mask.

He threw the tug rope a few more times, but like he counted on, both of the girls tired quickly. When they were both slower to return, Chris sat on the ground and let Allison pull on one end of the rope while Malia pulled on the other. After a few hard sprints, Allison was a match for her sister, at least enough to keep from being dragged across the grass.

Stiles never stopped watching them. When Derek got up and went up the stairs to the porch to sniff at Talia, Stiles looked torn. He went up the steps, sniffed at Peter, who was clearly dead to the world, then he paced some, always looking back at Chris with Malia and Allison.

“Can I have something to drink, Daddy?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, let me-,” Chris said, starting to stand up.

“You want something to drink, honey?” Talia called down the stairs. “Why don’t you and Malia come into the kitchen.”

Chris watched his shy little girl run up the steps toward Talia with Malia on her heels. She had been around Talia enough over the last few months that it didn’t exactly surprise him, but it made his chest warm. She hadn’t been raised around his family and Victoria’s family was about as warm as Victoria.

When they were gone, Stiles was still pacing on the porch, looking for a place to lay then looking back at Chris. Specifically at the tug rope.

“I’ll throw it for you if you don’t bite me,” he said.

Stiles laid down in front of Peter, but his ears were straight up. Almost every werewolf he had met had human intelligence in their expressions, but Stiles’s was intense. He was an intelligent man and that bled right into the wolf.

“I won’t even hold it against you when you have two legs again,” Chris said.

Stiles’s tail barely swayed.

Chris squeezed the ball, making it squeak.

That was all Stiles could take. He shoot to his feet like it was involuntary and trotted to where Chris was. Chris pulled back to throw and Stiles backed out, his tail wagging and his eyes fixed on the toy.

“Can you get this before it hits the ground?” Chris asked.

Stiles backed up a few more feet.

Chris pulled back and chunked the toy with everything he had. Stiles took off with dirt and grass flying.

Stiles didn’t quite catch it before it hit the ground, but he snapped it up a second after, tossing it in the air on his own a few times before trotting back to Chris. Chris smiled.

“I’m impressed.”

Stiles shook out his white coat.

“Can you get it before it hits the dirt?”

Stiles sneezed before he hopped back a few steps. He dropped the toy on the ground and Chris picked it up, waiting to feel teeth sinking into the back of his hand, but all he felt was the warm pant of Stiles’s breath.

Chris pulled back again and chunked the toy. Stiles shoot after it again, looking up in the dark sky. Just as Chris could see the toy again, Stiles snatched it out of the air. Chris laughed, clapping as Stiles brought it back.

“God you young pups,” Chris said.

Stiles tossed the toy in the air so it landed at Chris’s feet without having to give it to him. He started backing up immediately his tail wagging a hundred miles an hour. Chris switched hands with his shoulder aching slightly. He hadn’t thrown that hard since high school football. He was never as good with his left hand though and it showed. Stiles was able to snap the toy out of the air easily. He came back and dropped the toy at Chris’s feet with a stare.

“Give me a break. I’m old,” Chris said, picking it back up.

Chris chunked the toy over twenty more times for Stiles before the wolf showed any signs of tiring. When he finally brought it back a little slower and let his tongue hang out after he dropped it, Chris sat on the ground. He picked up the end of the toy and let it hang for a moment. Stiles snapped the other end like he had hoped he would.

Chris tugged on it as Stiles dug in and yanked, twisting his head like Malia had done. Except when Stiles shook his head, Chris could feel the strength of it all the way up his arm and down his torso. Stiles was still lean compared to some of the older packmates, but he was stout.

When Stiles gave a particularly hard yank, Chris went forward, letting go of the toy. Stiles tossed the toy to himself a few times before bringing it back.

“No I can’t,” Chris said, patting his side around his own heavy breathing. “You pull like a fucking freight train.”

Just like Peter would’ve, Stiles preened. His tail swayed and he kept tearing at the rope. When Chris pushed himself to his feet, Stiles was close behind, following him up the stairs. Chris sat back in the chair beside Peter and Stiles laid in front of Peter’s bed, chewing on the rope. Talia was gone, but so were the girls. Just as he was about to get up to look for them, the sliding door opened and Talia came out.

“They’re watching a movie,” Talia said.

“Thanks for watching them,” Chris said.

“I’m glad you two had some time to… talk,” Talia said, looking at Stiles like he was being ridiculous.

“Don’t judge him. You’d be all over that thing if you were on four feet.”

“Maybe ten years ago,” Talia said.

“I get the feeling that he’ll probably always go after a tug rope,” Chris said. “Peter too, if he didn’t think anyone would see him. Probably you too.”

“You’ll never know,” Talia said.

Chris laughed slightly when she smiled. The moon glowed, full and fat, over the backyard. He knew the woods were crawling with wolves, but in the white and blue shades thrown over the yard, it was hard to think of them as dangerous, not with one sluggish and tired beside him and the other gnawing on a dog toy at his feet. He had scars to prove otherwise, but it was facade he didn’t care to change.

“I’m going to be surprised if he makes it to the next full moon without popping,” Talia said, glancing at Peter.

“He isn’t due for five more weeks,” Chris said.

“I know. I don’t think it’s going to last that long.”

Chris looked at Peter sleeping between them. His sides were already stretched so tightly. Over the last week he had noticed him getting edgier, but with the moon close, he had marked it up to that. He knew the stress between their fucked up love triangle wasn’t helping, but he didn’t really know how to help with that other than what he had already tried, meeting with Stiles at the coffee shop and playing with him as a wolf. If Stiles wanted to hate his guts, he couldn’t do anything to help that. But if he came around he would be happier with that.

“It’ll all work out,” Talia said like she could read his mind.

“I know it will,” Chris said, watching Stiles chewing on the tug rope only a few inches from Peter’s paw.

Then Stiles picked up the toy and moved closer to Peter, laying down against his stomach. Peter stretched, his eyes squeezed shut before he curled down like a pup, showing some of his underbelly as he tucked his head against Stiles’s nape. Stiles chewed on the toy for a few more seconds before he laid his head down. Peter’s foot twitched on Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles arched his neck back, trying to touch Peter’s head that was tucked against him. Peter’s eyes fluttered as he rumbled quietly, probably never really coming awake before he curled closer to Stiles, his head resting on Stiles’s neck. Stiles’s tail thumped on the wood planks of the porch.

Talia laughed so quietly that Chris almost didn’t hear her. When she saw him looking at her, she shrugged.

“I don’t understand how he allowed this to happen,” she said. “I love him, but I don’t understand.”

“I think he went into heat and didn’t realize it,” Chris said quietly, although he doubted very much that Peter was awake. Even Stiles looked like he had fallen asleep. “When I first got back and we started up again, I thought he was warmer a few times that we were together, but he didn’t say anything and it wasn’t like when we were younger. He never got that hot.”

“I don’t know. He’s only had a handful since Malia was born.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You have to be happy to go into heat. I didn’t really leave a lot of room for that.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I just want him to be happy, Talia. I’ll do whatever he wants.”

“I hope so.”

“I promise.”

“Show me,” she said.

“Okay.”

Talia reached out and Chris took her hand, squeezing gently. She squeezed back and held him for a moment before letting go.

“I’m going to check on the girls. Keep an eye on him,” she said, like Peter needed to be guarded in the heart of Hale territory.

Chris didn’t argue as he watched Peter’s sides rising and falling in slow deep breaths. Stiles’s breathing was almost in the same rhythm. They looked good together. They had looked good together at Malia’s birthday party when Peter had hugged Stiles and kissed him on the corner of his mouth and Chris had known they were something more than packmates.

He knew that he and Peter looked good too, though. They made as much sense, but in a different way than Stiles and Peter. They were older. They already had a daughter together. They knew how to be parents.

It had kept him up with his insomnia and night terrors from hunts that were in his past. After the things he had seen, this tension was nothing, but he still thought about it. About the way Stiles was right for Peter in all of the ways that he wasn’t and how he was right for Peter in all the ways that Stiles wasn’t.

They both made sense apart.

He just needed to know if they made sense together. The words Peter had said on his porch weeks ago still echoed in his head. He wanted both of them. Chris wasn’t in a position to say shit in either direction. He didn’t know if he would even if he could. Not with the pup in Peter’s stomach being half Stiles.

As the moon moved slowly across the backyard, Peter didn’t move, but once, Stiles got up and stretched. He glanced at Chris then at Peter before he went slowly down the stairs, like he was tired. Chris watched him mark a few spots in the yard before he came back up the steps. When he came up to him, Chris turned his hand palm up to let him sniff. Stiles’s breath ghosted his skin before he barely rested his chin on knee, staring at Peter.

Chris slowly moved his hand to scratch behind his ear. His uncertainty was so much stronger in every line of his pale body than Chris felt it in his own. Maybe it was being older or maybe it was living through hell for years and knowing he would do anything to make this work.

He rubbed the edge of Stiles’s ear like he used to do with Peter. When he dreamed while he was away, he could almost feel the felt thickness of Peter’s ear between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s all going to work out,” Chris said quietly.

Stiles looked up at him with pale gold eyes. He communicated so much more in that expression than he had to Chris on two legs in the last few months. He was scared. Chris continued to gently rub behind his ear. Stiles let him for longer than Chris would’ve thought before he went back to Peter’s side and laid back down with his head on Peter’s stomach.

Talia didn’t come out again, or if she did, he had fallen asleep. He didn’t think it was possible with the way his mind was spinning, but he woke up again to someone touching his shoulder. He jerked before he felt firm pressure on the side of his chest, like someone was calming him down. He gripped their wrist and caught his breath as he came awake.

When he saw Stiles in front of him with the sun barely coloring the sky to gray, he let go of his wrist.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Stiles said. He was dressed in a white t-shirt and a hoodie. His hair was ruffled and there was dirt on his face. He held out the tug rope in his free hand until Chris took it. “Thanks.”

Chris held out his hand and Stiles shook it, his grip lingering.

“I just love him,” Stiles said weakly.

“That makes two of us,” Chris said gently.

Stiles nodded, squeezing his hand before he let him go. “It’d be easier if I could hate you.”

“By noon you’ll get back to it,” Chris said with a faint smile.

“Maybe,” Stiles said, smiling slightly back. “I’ll see you around.”

“Have a good day.”

Then Stiles turned and went down the steps in the dawn, then going around the house toward the front yard. Chris watched him until he was gone.


	14. Chapter 14

On Monday, Peter woke with a pounding headache. After he took Malia to school he came home and picked up the house some then looked in on the nursery. The people from the boutique had set up the furniture a handful of days ago. Stiles had come over after the full moon with John and helped put up shelves and hang pictures.

It was all still sterile, but it was becoming cute. He needed to get more stuffed animals, but for now the gray wolf Stiles had bought and the white one Chris had bought sat on the crib mattress.

It wouldn’t smell better until the new carpet smell wore off and was replaced with his own scent and the pup’s.

Peter lingered for awhile before he went into the kitchen. The throbbing at the base of his neck was like an ice pick. His hands shook slightly as he measured out his coffee, then added the water to the maker.

The coffee began to pop and the scent of heating metal and grounds filled the air he took his pills from the cabinet.

As he tapped the pills out on his his fingers were still shaking. He tried to force them still before he put the pills in his mouth and chased them with a drink of water. A low sinking feeling in his gut pooled. There was a good chance he was going to end up sitting in the waiting room at urgent care for most of the day. All he wanted was sleep. But he shouldn’t. He needed to take his blood pressure.

He finished his water, his vision pulsing, before he went toward his room where he kept the blood pressure cuff.

He didn't make it to the carpet of the hallway before everything went black.

 

When he woke up, he was on the dining room floor. The thin lines of grout between the tile stretched in front of him. There was a pool of dark liquid just beneath his eyes. It matted to his face as his vision started to cloud again.

He reached down his side to his phone lying against his thigh in his pocket. He arm was hard to move. Rigid. His fingers were tingling and numb. He pulled the phone from his pocket, losing grip, and hearing it clatter to the tile. His neck was too stiff to move. His jaw was pounding. The clicking of his teeth was loud as he knocked the phone up the floor.

He watched his own hand jerk like it had its own mind. His jaw was snapping together uncontrollable as he managed to get his phone into the emergency call screen. He barely managed to put in 9-1-1 before his teeth started to chatter louder.

"911, what is your emergency?" a woman answered.

For a paralyzing moment, he couldn't speak. He made his shuttering lips open, but his tongue wasn't functioning.

"P," He stuttered, clenching his eyes closed. "Pete, Peter Ha-Hale. John. Send John."

"Peter? Peter Hale?" the woman asked.

"Yes," he said as clearly as he could. "Stroke?"

"I'm dispatching an ambulance and Sheriff Stilinski now. Stay on the line with me, okay, Peter?"

"Okay," he said as clearly as he could.

That was all he remembered before someone was touching his face. When he opened his eyes, John's hands were bloody. He tried to open his mouth, but he couldn’t. His stomach was cramping. His chattering jaw seized as the pain in his lower stomach built. The pain in his head was almost blinding.

"It's alright," John said, touching his face then looking at his head.

Sirens were coming closer. The strobe of red and blue lights flashed on the wall.

"I fell. On my front,” he said through gritted teeth.

"He's tough. You're both tough. You just hang tight."

All Peter could focus on was the blue and green in his eyes. Even as his pulse made his vision dark, he could smell the barely contained panic seeping into the air. He couldn’t tell what was his own and what was John’s as everything went black again.

***

 

Chris’s heart was pounding as he pushed open the stairwell door of St. John’s hospital. It smelled like the cleaner used on vomit in schools. The warm colors on the walls didn’t help the industrial smell.

He turned down the first hall he came to and ran into a police officer hard enough that he was pushed back a step. He recognized the man, but without the name written on his chest he couldn’t have put together where from as panic was beginning to leach into his blood.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said.

“It’s fine. Wrong way, though,” Stiles’s father said. “The waiting room is down here.”

Chris walked with him. Blood was flecked on his tan uniform.

“How is he?” Chris asked.

“They’re trying to stabilize him.”

“What’s happened?”

“I heard the doctor tell Talia it’s pre-eclampsia.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Something with blood pressure. I don’t know. When I got to his house, he was face down on the kitchen floor and seizing.”

“Goddamnit.”

John stopped just as Chris could barely see some of a large room with chairs. Chris paused as John looked him in the eyes.

“I saw the look on the doctors’ faces when we brought Peter in. They’re worried. They seemed to think the baby will be okay, but that’s not a sure thing either.”

Years before, a witch in Florida had sucked all the oxygen from the room when he was on a hunt. He had tried inhaling multiple times, but nothing had relieved the tightness in his chest. That had been less panic inducing.

He made himself breathe before he nodded.

John patted his shoulder before he walked into the waiting room. Chris followed behind him. Talia was seated next to Stiles in the mostly empty room. Stiles looked up at his dad then at Chris.

“Any more news?” John asked.

“No,” Stiles said.

He had been crying. His eyes were still red. Chris squeezed Stiles’s shoulder and Stiles gripped his wrist before Chris let go and sat on Talia’s other side.

“Have you seen him?” Chris asked her.

“No,” Talia said. “They just moved him up here to prep for a cesarean.”

The first thing he had ever learned in training was how to sit still. It wasn’t conscious as he slipped into the nowhere place in his mind where things passed before his eyes. People milled in and out of the nurses station in front of the waiting room. People passed in front of it, some civilian and others medical personnel.

Then Talia touched his knee. Her hand was warm. Chris looked at her and saw just as much fear as he felt.

Beside them, John took phone calls. He paced when he talked. People who passed the waiting room stared at him in his uniform. When he wasn’t on the phone, he and Stiles talked in low murmurs. Chris probably could have understood them if he cared to listen.

As time passed, Chris determined the nurses that were stationed at the desk in front of them and which ones were just filtering in and out. He heard Stiles’s voice crack as he talked to someone quietly on the phone. Talia asked if anyone wanted anything to drink and went to a vending machine half the building away, even when Chris said he would go for her incase the doctor came back.

“I want to move,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

She was back within five minutes. Chris drank the water she brought him and checked his phone. It was almost eleven. He got the call about Peter just after nine-thirty.

Talia kept crossing and uncrossing her legs beside him. Playing on her phone then turning off the screen. Chris could feel that she was about to get up and ask for another update when a doctor came around the corner still wearing a surgical cap and a face mask around his neck. He focused on Talia as he came toward them.

“Ms. Hale, can I talk to you?”

“You can talk to me in front of them,” Talia said.

The doctor, Deaton, pulled one of the waiting room chairs in front of them and sat down. Sagged, like a clay figure that hadn’t been fired.

“The cesarean was successful. The pup had a weak pulse and low oxygen levels for awhile, but his immune system took over quickly and he’s recovering. He’s 7.3 lbs and 18 inches long. You’ll be able to see him soon,” Deaton said.

Chris heard Talia exhale and saw some of John’s tension in his shoulders fall.

“Thank God,” Talia said. “How is Peter?”

“We hoped that when we took the pup that his immune system would go into self-preservation again, but it hasn’t. He’s in an induced coma until his vitals respond how we would like.”

“What’s wrong?” Talia asked. “If he was pre-eclamptic then delivering the pup should’ve resolved it.”

“He has extensive liver and kidney damage, there’s fluid on his lungs, and his blood pressure is still very high. If we can trigger his immune system, or he can trigger himself, he’ll be fine, but until that happens he’s in the woods.”

“What are you doing to help?” Chris asked.

Deaton looked away from Talia, whose eyes had started to water and looked at Chris.

“His body burns through anything we give him in seconds. The only thing that’s working is sedation.”

“Deaton,” Talia said, her voice giving.

“You know I’ll do everything I can,” Deaton said, squeezing her hand and looking at her with more compassion than any doctor Chris had ever met. He had to be known to the family. “I need to get back to work. We’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you,” Talia said.

None of them said anything as the TV played in the corner. At the far side of the large room, people had begun to filter in. Their faces were much happier. Expecting grandparents, aunts, uncles. They should have different waiting rooms.

“Congratulations, buddy,” John said quietly.

Chris glanced over and saw John hugging Stiles against his side. Stiles turned into him and hugged him harder. John’s eyes were red-rimmed and he wasn’t smiling as he squeezed Stiles back.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly.

Stiles said something that Chris couldn’t understand against John’s shoulder before he looked away. He put his arm back around Talia and squeezed her. She leaned forward on her knees and put her face in her hands.

Chris knew she could hear how hard his own heart was pounding. It made the soothing useless. He shouldn’t feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest near Peter’s sister. It was her brother. Her family. Her best friend. He swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, slowing his heart rate as best he could.

 

 

It was another hour before a nurse came and got Talia and Stiles to go see the baby. Chris sat with John in the waiting room, going between watching the nurses at their station and the TV screen in the corner and glancing at the anxious, but happy family, at the other end of the room.

“Do you know much about werewolf babies?” John asked.

“Hm?” Chris asked, looking toward him.

“Do you know anything about werewolf babies?” John asked. “I haven’t asked Stiles or Talia. I didn’t want to be offensive. I’ve tried researching, but,” he waved his hand like a gnat was near him.

“I know some.”

“Am I about to have to coo over a dog?”

Chris surprised himself by huffing a laugh. “No. He shouldn’t shift until full moons.”

“Thank God. I didn’t know how well I could fake that,” John said, slumping in his chair. “I know it shouldn’t matter-”

“It’s your grandson. You want to see him as a boy first.”

“I like seeing Stiles as a wolf. Don’t misunderstand-.”

“I understand. It doesn’t matter to them, at least not to Peter and Talia. They’re going off scent more than sight anyway. But the first full moon they’ll make a big deal over seeing the pup for the first time.”

“I do want to see what he’ll look like a wolf. That was something with Stiles. I’d never seen a wolf in person. He still looked like him in his eyes.”

“They somehow manage to do that,” Chris said, rubbing the seam of his jeans where his foot was crossed over his knee.

John cleared his throat after they had sat in near silence for a few minutes.

“Stiles has been part of this pack for three years and we’ve never seen one of them in the hospital.”

Chris nodded, this lips pressed tightly.

“You think he could die,” John said, looking at Chris.

“They don’t go into the hospital like this and when they do, they don’t come out often.”

“We just saw him Saturday. He looked tired, but I didn’t think twice about it. Claudia, Stiles’s mom, looked tired most of the nine months.”

“He had regular appointments with Deaton. If a doctor didn’t catch this, how were you supposed to?”

“Guilt doesn’t work that way.”

“I know.”

“Did you serve?” John asked.

“Hm?”

“In the military.”

“Oh. No,” Chris said. “Did you?”

“Eight years in my twenties. You just seemed the type.”

Chris shook his head. “No. I’m just a hunter.”

“I guess that’s its own kind of serving.”

“You could say that.”

John stared at him in the same way Chris was sure he looked at people who were caught with a few ounces of weed. He didn’t know what to make of him. That was fine. Chris didn’t know what to make of him either.

Chris went back to watching the TV. Then Talia came back into the waiting room. There were tears on her face and a brittle smile.

“Go in and see him, John,” she said. “They’re in room 243.”

“With Peter?” John asked.

“No it’s just a room to be with the baby.”

John stood up then hugged Talia when she held out her arms. He squeezed her tightly before he went around the corner and disappeared. He and Stiles had nearly the same gait. If he was tracking their footprints it would be almost impossible to tell the difference.

“Do you want to see him?” Talia asked.

“Maybe later,” Chris said. “How is he?”

“He’s beautiful. He looks just like Peter,” she said. Her glassy eyes spilled again. “He has to be okay. He-. Stiles can’t raise a baby on his own.”

“Peter’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” she said, twisting a withered kleenex in her hands. “I know he will be.”

“Then keep thinking that.”

Talia nodded. They sat in the relative silence of the mundane TV show and people coming in and out. Chris checked his phone. He needed to leave soon to get Malia and Allison.

“Has anyone checked that Peter’s house is cleaned up?” Chris asked.

“Shit,” she said tiredly. “No. I didn’t even think about it. I’ll have Derek go over before he picks up the girls.”

Chris shook his head. “He doesn’t have to do that. I’ll go to Peter’s before I get the girls. I think it may be best for me to stay in his house while he’s in here. It’s close to the pack incase I need to leave quickly and it smells like home for Malia. She might be more comfortable.”

“I was going to ask if you would stay there,” she said. “It will help Malia.”

Chris nodded then he stood up, even when it was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to stay, but he also wanted was Malia to have one of her parents with her. She may not know him as much as he’d like, but she already picked him over pack members, excluding Talia. She had no qualms about putting her head on his lap while they watched movies at his house or giving him the tight hugs he had seen her give Talia. They weren’t quite as good and long as the ones she gave Peter, but he could’ve been there from day one and probably still not received that level of adoration. She was Peter’s one and only baby girl and she knew it.

Deep searing pain suddenly gripped his chest. He dropped back into the chair and focused on his breathing.

“Chris?” Talia asked, sliding her hand over his back.

“Sorry,” he said clearing his throat. “Light-headed.”

“Breathe.”

Chris laced his fingers behind his head, breathing deeply.

“I have to-,” he said, breathing out slowly. “I have to tell Malia something. Jesus, Talia.”

“Tell her he’s with me.”

Chris looked at her as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“I shouldn’t tell her where he is?”

“If you tell her that he’s in the hospital, she’ll have a meltdown. That’s the last thing we need. She can’t see him. Not while he’s unconscious. I don’t know if he would be able to smell her, but if he can, I think it would only hurt. And I know it wouldn’t be good for Malia. If things-,” she paused and cleared her throat. “If things turn for the worse then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“She’s going to want to talk to him.”

“Let her call me. I’ll talk to her,” Talia said.

Chris nodded and clenched his eyes shut. If Malia lost Peter it would rip her sweet heart out. The stab of that pain went so much deeper than his own. He thought of Peter talking with her across the dinner table, arguing with her about watching the same movie six times in a row, the way he read to her before bed in his different voices and her giggling.

Warm pressure covered his back as Talia hugged him where he was hunched over. He squeezed her hand that was against his chest. The last time he cried was when his mother died. He started to again, his back quaking a few times before he gently pushed Talia off and stood up, wiping his eyes.

“I need to go. Let me know if anything changes with him.”

“Derek doesn’t mind watching the girls, Chris,” she said gently.

Chris shook his head. “They need me more than Peter does.”

Talia frowned. “Call Derek over whenever you need him. He wants to help however he can.”

Chris nodded again. Talia stood and Chris hugged her tightly. He didn’t look her in the face as he left the waiting room. The last thing he wanted to see was pity from his closest family member. She had enough on her plate without thinking about him twice.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Chris walked into Peter’s house and paused. Derek was on his hands and knees in the dining room with a bucket of water and a rag. The water on the tiles was tinged with red.

“Hey,” Derek said. “Sorry. I wanted to have this done before I went to get Malia.”

“Does he have a mop?”

Derek leaned back. His forehead was beaded with sweat. His eyes were red.

“Probably,” he said. “I didn't even think about it. How is he?”  
“They’re working on it.”

“There was a lot of blood.”

“I see that.”

“This is the second bucket. I-,” Derek wiped his mouth on his arm. “I threw up in the first one.”

“Let me-,” Chris said, rolling up his sleeves.

“No. I don’t want you to smell like it.”

“I’ll stop at home and change before I get the girls.”

Derek stared at him before exhaling and standing up.

“Only because I’ll vomit again if I keep going.”

“You’re fine.”

“If it’s worse for you-”

“I’m used to blood,” Chris said.

Chris went to the pantry in the kitchen and moved the broom and vacuum before he found a mop. He dipped the mop before he began trying to clear he thick congealing puddle on the tile.

Derek shifted next to him. He kept looking at the blood. He was pale.

“You can go.”

“I’m fine,” Derek said.

“Then sit down.”

Derek pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat.

“Do they know what happened?”

“He was severely pre-eclamptic. They delivered the pup, but it hasn’t helped. The pup is in good health though.”

“That’s good.”

He sounded as numb as Chris felt. Chris mopped up as much of the blood as he could before he dumped the bucket and refilled it with hot soapy water from the kitchen sink. He worked in silence with Derek lingering at the table. Eight years ago Derek was a quiet boy. Apparently the only thing that had changed was the effectiveness of his resting scowl.

“If you want to go back to the hospital I’m okay with keeping Allison and Malia. I’d like to keep them,” Derek said.

Chris finished mopping and took another cleaner from beneath the sink. It was some kind of odor neutralizer. He sprayed the tile and let it sit as he cleaned up his tools and threw away the pink-tinged mop head. He would take the trash out with him before he went home to change.

“Will you be staying in Talia’s house?”

“I normally do.”

“Then I might call you tonight when they’re asleep. Would you mind?”

“No,” Derek said.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll probably go sit with Mom and Stiles for awhile though.”

“She could use someone else there.”

Derek nodded and stood up, lingering by the table for a moment. “Do you need anything?”

“No. Thank you, Derek.”

“No problem,” Derek said before he headed for the door.

Chris checked his phone after Derek left. He only had a little while before he needed to be in the pick-up line for the girls. The tightness in his chest was like a bowling ball resting on him. He wiped up the deodorizer from the tile, and smelled as closely as he could. There was nothing, but the faint scent of lemon, but Malia’s sense of smell was incredible. Chris took out his pocket knife and cut the side of his arm. He crouched over where Peter had fallen and let his blood drip on the tiles. He squeezed either side of the wound until there was enough blood on the floor. He cleaned the blood up with a little water as the cut started to clot on its own.

By the time he finished, it was time for him to leave. He took out the trash and put it in Peter’s outdoor trash can. He went by his house, let Allison’s puppy out, packed her a bag, his own bag, and loaded her puppy and its crate, before heading toward the school.

In the end, he was farther back in the pick up line than normal. Allison’s puppy was getting restless in the cargo area of the 4Runner. Chris barely heard him as he stared at the throng of kids, teachers, and parents and went on autopilot as his heart started to pound. At least Malia was used to him picking her up, so that wouldn’t upset her.

Like normal, the girls were on the sidewalk when he pulled up. They were smiling and talking to each other. The ache in Chris’s chest intensified. This could be the last moment of Malia’s life where it was normal. If something happened to Peter, this would be the last moment she was blissfully unaware.

The attendant pulled open the back door and the girls scooted in, buckling themselves into their booster seats.

“Hi, Dad,” they both said.

“Hey,” he said. “Thank you,” he said to the attendant before she smiled and closed the door. “How was school?”

“Niko!” Malia said loudly, looking over the back of the seat at the puppy. The crate started to creak louder.

“Shh, don’t get him excited, ‘Lia,” Chris said.

“Sorry,” she said.

“You’re fine. We just don’t want him to use the bathroom in there.”

“Again,” Allison said.

“Again,” Chris agreed.

“Are we going to my house?” Malia asked.

“Mhm,” Chris said. “We’ll get your puppy from Aunt Talia’s and let them play together for awhile.”

“Yay!” Malia said.

She was such an incredibly loud kid. Normally it didn’t phase him in the slightest. He barely even noticed, but he was on edge. That only made him feel worse. He turned up the radio some, making sure most of the volume was in his front speakers and not the speakers near the girls. Like usual, they talked non-stop.

When they pulled up at Peter’s house, they got out with Chris grabbing Allison’s overnight bag and his own. He let Allison’s dog out and helped him down from the cargo area. He was a welcome distraction as and the girls ran across the dooryard to get Malia’s puppy from Talia’s house. Chris needed to go over and get Malia’s puppy’s crate too. Now that Peter’s house was finished he could actually stay with them again.

He went into Peter’s house, leaving the door open to let the cold winter air flush out any lingering scents. Neither of the girls had even noticed Allison’s overnight bag or his own. He put Allison’s bag in Malia’s new bedroom. It was decorated again. It looked more like an older girl’s room than her last bedroom that was now the nursery. Maybe it was just that it was bigger. She didn’t have new furniture. It was still her white full-size mattress, same pink and purple quilt with multiple throw blankets in all tones of purple. Still, with the colors toned down and some changes to the things on her walls, it wasn’t hard to imagine her being a teenager in the room.

He was torn on where to put his own bag, but finally took it down the hall and put it in Peter’s bedroom. He would probably sleep on the couch, but at least with his bag out of sight the girls wouldn’t ask about it.

Then he heard running feet and paws come in the front door. Chris hurried back down the hall. Malia was standing on one of the kitchen chairs, getting down the treats for the puppies.

“Get down,” Chris said, picking her up off the chair and putting her on her feet.

“They’re hungry,” Malia said.

“I doubt it,” Chris said, “But here you go,” he said, giving her two strips of dog treats. “Make them sit before you give it to them.”

Malia ran out of the kitchen and gave Allison one of the strips. The puppies sat before they could ask. Chris looked in Peter’s fridge. Nothing. Well there was plenty, but nothing he felt like cooking. Instead he took out two pudding cups and grabbed spoons for the girls, putting them at the table.

“How does pizza sound for dinner?” he asked.

“Yes!” they both said loudly.

“I’ll order it in a little bit. Eat these to hold you over,” Chris said.

“Where’s Daddy?” Malia asked as she sat in one of the chairs.

“He’s with your aunt Talia.”

“Is he going to eat with us? You have to get one without onions. He doesn’t like onions.”

“He’s going to be with Aunt Talia for a few days, but that’s okay, because Ally and I are going to stay with you.”

“Where did they go?” Malia asked. She already had pudding on her face.

“They’re doing things to get ready for the baby.”

Malia’s lips twisted. At least he didn’t need to smell emotions to see jealousy. Her little face wore that one easily. Chris got up and ruffled her hair before going into the living room and putting on one of the shows the girls liked. It didn’t take long for them to be lured into watching TV.

He should check their backpacks for homework, but he couldn’t make himself. He couldn’t even decide if he wanted them to go to school the next day. If something happened with Peter, he wanted to be able to take Malia to see him quickly.

They had only been watching movie for an hour when Chris’s phone rang. He saw Talia’s name on the screen and went down the hall to Peter’s room before he answered.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Hey,” she said. She sounded tired. “I just wanted to let you know I’m in a room with him. He isn’t getting better, but he isn’t getting worse. They think it might help to have me in here.”

“I hope it will.”

“Me too. Derek is heading home in a little while. You should let him watch the girls. Get some rest then come up tonight. They don’t have visiting hours, so you can come see him whenever you want.”

“I may let Derek sit with them, take a nap, then head up to stay for a few hours tonight.”

“He would like that. He wants to feel useful.”

“He is useful.”

“He told me he couldn’t clean up the mess.”

“Peter’s his uncle.”

“He is my little tender hearted boy,” Talia said. “How is my baby girl?”

“She hasn’t noticed anything’s wrong. The dogs and Allison are a good distraction.”

“Good. I just want him to come out of this as soon as possible. I don’t want her to be scared,” Talia said.

Then Chris could hear the wetness in his voice. He cleared his own throat as his eyes burned.

“I need to order pizza. What does Derek like?” he asked.

After she told him, they said their goodbyes with Talia promising to give updates. Then Chris did as he said he would. He sat on the edge of Peter’s bed and put in the pizza order.

He had only spent a few nights in Peter’s new bedroom, but it was beautiful, large, and light with a pair of french doors overlooking the forest that made up most of the Hale property. His old bedroom had been fine, but it didn’t compare. Chris’s stomach clenched at the thought of him never being able to really use it.

He wiped his eyes after putting in the order and went down the hall. Luckily, training meant he could turn off anything, sadness, fear, anxiety. None of it came through as he shut down and sat on the couch near the girls. Malia even leaned into him after the pizza came and she and Allison had eaten way too much. She didn’t scent a thing as he ran his fingers through her long hair.

The quiet was broken by Derek knocking then coming inside. He had a pasted on smile, but the brownies he was carrying would cover any scent of discontent.

“Hey, I made these and without Mom at home I thought you guys might want some,” Derek said.

“Yes!” Malia said, scrambling over the back of the couch like it was playground equipment.

Allison was slower to follow and more polite, but she didn’t seem nervous around Derek. Not anymore. Chris stood up and grabbed his keys.

“Girls, I’m going to run a few errands. Can you be good for Derek?”

“Derek babysits me all the time,” Malia said, with her mouth full. “Where’s Stiles?” she asked, looking up at Derek.

“He’s at home,” Derek said.

“Why?”

Chris took his cue to leave as Malia started playing the never ending why game.

“Text me if you need anything,” Chris said as he left.

“Sure,” Derek said.

Chris closed the door and went down the stairs in the crisp winter air. He could see his breath in the security lights as he got into his SUV and cranked the motor. The radio was loud on his way to the hospital, but he didn’t turn it down. He focused on everything they said and somehow none of it made an impact, sliding off his brain like a greased cookie sheet, as he parked in the sparse hospital lot and made the long walk to the doors.

Hospitals at night were always like seeing the Twilight Zone. A negative image of what they were in the daylight. Any false cheer was wiped away. Maybe because the people who were staying overnight weren’t just needing a bandaid. It was something that would stick in their heads. The nursing staff looked more serious, the gift shop was closed, the doctors he passed looked tired, most carrying cafeteria coffee in styrofoam cups as he made his way up to Peter’s floor.

He passed the nurses station and went down the hall, reading the numbers until he found the one Talia had texted him. He knocked lightly on the gapped door until it silently swug open. Talia was on the fold out couch with a blanket from home and pillow Derek must have brought.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you needed anything,” Chris said quietly.

Talia waved him off. “That’s what kids are for. Derek brought me everything I needed.”

“Good,” Chris said as he looked at the hospital bed, colored by the TV high on the wall with all of the lights out except the ones behind the bed, shining up the wall.

He knew Peter was in a coma, but he didn’t expect him to be intubated. The hose down his throat looked unnatural. How still his face was looked unnatural. He didn’t look asleep. He looked dead. There was a gash on his forehead that was stapled closed.

“I know,” Talia said, looking away from the TV.

Chris went closer to the bed and gently brushed Peter’s brow near the gash. He had never seen him with so much as a papercut for longer than a few seconds.

“Has Deaton been in?” Chris asked quietly.

“Not for a few hours. No change.”

Chris touched Peter’s jaw, feeling his stubble before he dropped his hand, but continued to stare.

“Have you seen the baby?” Talia asked.

“No,” Chris said.

“You should before you go. He’s beautiful.”

“I’m sure he is.”

“I also think John had to leave for the station awhile ago, so Stiles has been in the waiting room by himself since Derek left.”

“Why doesn’t he come in here?”

“He starts to hyperventilate. His mom died in a hospital, in a coma.”

“That would do it,” Chris said, not able to stop himself from touching Peter’s hair. “He has to come out of it,” he said quietly. “Malia can’t see him like this.”

“Peter and I never discussed what we would do if this happened, but you’re her dad. I don’t think it would be good for her to see him here. Not until he wakes up. Even if he doesn’t. I never want her to have this image of him. He wouldn’t want that.”

“No he wouldn’t.”

“But he’s going to be okay,” Talia said, her voice firmer.

“He is,” Chris said, looking at her in the TV light. “He’s going to be okay. This is just a bump in the road.”

“A crater.”

“Not arguing that,” Chris said before he kissed Peter’s cheek softly, hearing the air being forced into his lungs. When he pulled away, he stared at Peter for a moment longer, praying that this wouldn’t be the image he was left with before he looked at Talia. “Get some sleep. Let me know if you need anything.”

Talia smiled slightly. Just a flex of her lips. “Thank you.”

“Take care of him.”

“You know I will.”

Then Chris went around the bed and leaned down to hug her tightly. She squeezed him back in a rare show of werewolf strength that made his ribs ache. It felt good against the pressure in his chest.

“I’ll be in the waiting room for awhile if you need me.”

“Okay,” she said.

Chris kissed her cheek like he had Peter’s before he left the room, pulling the door mostly closed behind him again. He went back down the hall, passing a nurse that gave him a smile that probably wasn’t meant to be sympathetic, but it was, as he went back to the waiting room.

Stiles was there. Sitting in a spot that he could see one of the TVs well. He was the only one. He glanced up when Chris lingered then he sat up straighter.

“Any change?”

“No,” Chris said, going to sit beside him. “Where’s your dad?”

“He had to go get some sleep. I basically had to kick him out,” Stiles said.

“Shouldn’t you be doing the same thing?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

“Hunter. We don’t sleep.”

“Werewolf.”

“You people sleep like cats,” Chris said.

Stiles huffed a laugh. His dark eyes were dragging. He was tired. Chris stood up and went to the nurses station where only one woman sat.

“Could I get a blanket and a pillow?” he asked.

“Which room?” she asked.

Chris inclined his head toward Stiles. “He’s not going to leave, so he might as well be a little more comfortable.”

The nurse looked at Stiles before going to a large cabinet. She pulled out two blankets and a pillow passing them to Chris.

“Thank you.”

“Get some rest,” she said.

Chris went back to the chairs and gave Stiles the blankets and pillow. Stiles took them, but stared at him for a moment before exhaling.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Stretch out. No one else is needing a seat obviously,” Chris said.

“You think the nurse will get pissed?”

“I don’t think she cares what you do.”

“Probably not,” Stiles said as he stretched out on one of the double seats without the arm that he had already been lounging on. Now he pulled his feet onto it and curled up smaller than Chris would’ve thought his lanky body was capable of. “Wake me up if anything happens or you leave, okay?”

“Okay,” Chris agreed watching the TV screen. Hospitals always played HGTV. At least he could watch a few hours of that.

It wasn’t long before Stiles was snoring softly beside him. Chris put his arm on the back of Stiles’s chairs and leaned back. His eyes were burning, so he gave in and closed them on the second episode of some generic remodeling show that was a knockoff of something on the same channel. He still heard the occasional passing of feet, quick with purpose, doctors, nurses, but none of it was enough to bring him out of his light sleep. Then a shadow fell over his face and he jumped.

A nurse smiled small at him as she came closer.

“Are you Stiles?” she asked.

“No, he is,” Chris said, then gently shook Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles jerked slightly, his eyes flashing as he came awake.

“You’re alright,” Chris said quietly.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“The baby is awake. Do you want to come hold him for awhile?” the nurse asked.

Stiles glanced around for just a moment. Chris didn’t have to ask. He was looking for John even though he knew he was gone. Then he looked at Chris.

“Can he come with me?”

“Sure,” she said.

When Stiles stood up, Chris followed him after the nurse. They went down the hall toward the window where they could watch the babies sleeping. The nurse led them into a small room past the window where a rocking chair sat and a few other chairs.

“Have a seat. I’ll bring him in,” she said.

Then she was gone.

“Thanks for letting me come back,” Chris said.

 

“I don’t know how to hold him,” Stiles said. “I forgot. Dad showed me, but-”

“I’ll show you.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, sighing as he sat in one of the normal chairs. “How is Malia?”

“She’s okay. She doesn’t know anything is wrong yet,” he said.

“I hope she doesn’t have to know,” Stiles said.

“Me too,” Chris said.

A few quiet moments later, the nurse came back into the room pushing one of the plexiglass sided cribs. When she bent over to take the baby out, Chris backed up so she would take the baby to Stiles. She held him out and Stiles held out his hands.

“The doctor wants someone from your… pack to hold him as much as possible when he’s awake.”

“Okay,” Stiles said.

“I’m going to leave you alone for a little while. Feel free to use the bed if you want to take turns between sleeping and holding him.”

“Thank you,” Chris said.

She smiled before leaving.

Stiles looked down at the baby in his arms with his skin pale. He was rigid. The baby started to fuss.

“Can I?” Chris asked.

Stiles nodded, staring at the baby before looking at Chris.

“Let me see him,” Chris said, going close enough for Stiles to put the baby in his arms. Chris pulled him against his chest, looking down at his small pinched face as he considered really throwing a fit. Even with his features squished, he was could see how perfect they were. He looked like the baby doll that every toy designer tried to capture. “He’s beautiful.”

“Yeah and I have no fucking idea what to do with him,” Stiles said, his dark eyes wet. “I can’t do this without Peter. He’s so fucking small. I don’t even know how to hold him and people have showed me. Dad, the nurse. People keep saying this shit comes naturally, but look at you. You’re holding him easier than I can and he’s mine.”

“Pull one of those chairs up beside the rocker. Right against it. Take a breath.”

“Fuck,” Stiles said under his breath, sniffing loudly as he picked up one of the chairs and put it next to the rocker.

“Sit in the rocker,” Chris said.

“You just do it. He’s quiet when you hold him. He’s quiet when Dad and Talia hold him too. It’s just me he gets pissed off with.”

“Sit in the rocker, Stiles,” Chris said.

Stiles rolled his wet eyes before sitting down.

“Take another deep breath,” Chris said. “Relax. Like you said, this is your son. You know how to take care of him. Don’t let your brain lie to you and say anything else.”

He watched Stiles’s chest rise, then fall as he slowly breathed out. Then Chris leaned over, putting the baby in Stiles’s arms, right against his torso. He gently lifted Stiles’s arm behind the baby’s head until Stiles was supporting most of him with one arm.

Then Chris sat in the chair beside him. He brushed one of the boy’s small legs through the blanket.

“You’re holding your whole world right now. You don’t even get to appreciate that, because of everything going on, but you need to pause right here.”

Stiles inhaled and exhaled again with a tight nod.

“This person is going to love you like you love your dad. You’re going to be that person to him, that person he knows he can come to no matter what goes wrong in the world. Your his dad,” Chris said.

Stiles nodded, breathing out again slowly. Then he brushed his finger over the baby’s cheek. His eyes were open, staring at Stiles. Even with the tightness in his chest that hadn’t left since he got the phone call about Peter, another part of it felt warm.

“You’ll never do this alone,” Chris said quietly. Looking away from the baby’s small face to Stiles’s. “Your dad will always be there for you, the pack, and if you ever need it, I’ll be here too. Even if Peter isn’t okay.”

“You’ll leave if he isn’t-.”

“Malia isn’t leaving her pack and I’m not leaving my wild one.”

“You don’t have to say you’ll help.”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, taking his hand away, but looking at the baby’s large eyes. “He’s Malia’s brother and even if I didn’t like you, he’s Peter’s son.”

Stiles looked at him until Chris met his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Chris shrugged. “In a weird way we’re family. Even if you don’t care for it.”

“I don’t-. I don’t not care for it,” Stiles said, looking at the baby. “I wish I cared more, I think. I just wish I could hate you.”

Chris smiled slightly. “Yeah you’ve said.”

“It’s still true.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“Maybe,” Stiles said.

As he talked, the baby curled tighter into his chest. He had such large expressive eyes. Werewolf babies always did. The hunters said it was something about keeping the feralness in the father from reacting to it, but he didn’t think that was true. Not with this baby. Not with Stiles. It already had his heart strings, even with him being terrified. He was worried that he wasn’t enough. That he was going to fail. Chris knew all of those emotions by heart. He felt every single one of them daily, hourly, when Allison was small.

“See how easy he is to make happy?” Chris asked quietly as the baby just stared at Stiles like he was content to do that for as long as he was awake.

Stiles smiled slightly, brushing the baby’s arm with his thumb. “He really is pretty. I mean, I know all parents probably thing that, but he’s stupid handsome.”

Chris laughed slightly. The baby looked at him and he smiled slightly. “He is beautiful. You should be a proud daddy.”

“I mean, I’m not surprised. Look at Malia. She looks like a little model.”

“She is gorgeous. Takes after her daddy.”

“Yeah? What’s your excuse for Allison?”

Chris smiled slightly, glancing at Stiles. “Well, her mom-. I can’t even lie. She’s my little copy.”

“She’s so pretty,” Stiles said, not looking at Chris. “I mean, I saw her before I knew she was your daughter and just-. Wow.”

“Thank you,” Chris said quietly and meaning it. Stiles didn’t strike him as the type to give a compliment he didn’t mean.

“Again, not a surprise. You and Peter look like some kind of superhuman race with the face structure and eyes. Everything.”

“Yeah you aren’t bad yourself.”

“Wow thanks.”

Chris snorted. “Peter doesn’t have bad taste in anything. Cute twink alphas included.”

“I am not a fucking twink. I could break so many of your bones.”

“No, you could break someone’s bones. Not mine. I’d have you on the ground and begging for mercy before you touched me.”

“One day when I’m not holding a newborn maybe you can prove that.”

“My pleasure,” Chris said.

Stiles smiled slightly and Chris couldn’t help doing it back. It was late. Maybe he was delirious, but Stiles was being friendly. He was a beautiful man. The kind of alpha he went for whenever he had the chance on hunts. Young. Submissive. A beautiful face and body never hurt. His and Peer’s taste were so similar he should be disappointed, but he wasn’t.

“Are you going to stay for awhile?” Stiles asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“If you can? I just-. I don’t really want to be alone with him and I know Talia is trying to sleep.”

“Sure,” Chris said. “I’m going to use that bed for about thirty minutes if you don’t mind. I won’t be asleep. If he starts to fuss just wake me up.”

“Can I move the rocker closer?”

“Let me,” Chris said, waiting for Stiles to stand up before he moved the rocker closer to the bed.

Stiles settled in it and Chris gave him one of the two blankets off the bed, helping him arrange it over his lower body before he laid on the bed. Like he told Stiles, he didn’t sleep, but he rested his eyes, going between watching Stiles and the baby, and the backs of his eyelids. It wasn’t long before Stiles was asleep, cradling the baby to his chest with his feet on the glider. The pup had long since fallen asleep against Stiles’s chest, snuggled up to him the way only werepups could do. It made Chris’s heart ache slightly. Malia had no doubt been just as sweet and he had never had that privilege of falling asleep with her cuddled to his chest on pure instinct for warmth and the protection of her father.

At least this pup was getting that. Chris just prayed he would know the same love from Peter. That he would get to be held by the father that carried him. The thought of anything else made his chest too tight as he got up and gently shook Stiles awake, prompting him to get in the bed when the pup whimpered slightly. Chris held the small pup as Stiles laid down in the bed, staring at them with dragging eyelids. Chris held the pup close and touched his small face. The pup was so happy to stare. Chris brushed his lips over the pup’s tiny fingers wrapped around his own as night very slowly bled to morning.


End file.
